Rhapsody in Electric Blue
by The Kindly One
Summary: It's been years since the events of class 3-E and Karma is leading an unfulfilled life of complacency and boredom. That is, until a certain blue haired assassin comes roaring back into his world. For mature audiences only. Slash. Eventual Karma/Nagisa. See further warnings inside. Epilogue under rewrite.
1. Business as Usual

**Author's Note: Firstly, this story takes place a few years after the events of class 3-E. Secondly, it carries a lot of heavy warnings, up to and including: violence, murder, blood spatter, torture, non-con sexual advances and sex-so basically the whole lot. So consider this your trigger warning for these things. Also, this will eventually be a slash fic., so if that isn't your cup of tea, then you might want to hit the back button now. And thirdly, I don't own these characters or anything (as per the usual disclaimer).**

* * *

 **"Rhapsody in Electric Blue"**

Chapter 1:

Business as Usual

The area around Kensington in London was outfitted with posh shops, their highly reflective windows polished to an almost golden sheen. Parks and green spaces were also in abundance, and visitors and locals alike could be seen lounging around like sunning lizards in the soft, comforting grass. Cafes that brought to mind words like 'quirky' and 'charming' and 'hip' lined the district's sidewalks, each promising the perfect culinary experience. People with trendy clothes and glossy rainbow colored hair like brilliant exotic birds promenaded the Broad Walk and the surrounding sidewalks, swinging shopping bags with names like Gucci and Prada and Armani emblazoned on the side. Double decker buses zipped by and black cabs dotted the roadways like marching ants, bringing even more kinetic energy to the scene. London was certainly a busy, noisy place, and not exactly one that encouraged ambling or moseying or any other kind of slow, unhurried tread. Yet amble is exactly what Karma did, walking at a leisurely pace from Kensington High Street station, through the shopping district, over to the gardens and into the parks. With his hands shoved deep in his pockets he strolled quietly along, while others careened around him like schools of fast moving fish, breaking around him like he was a rock stuck in the middle of a rolling stream. Karma didn't mind though. He liked being still in the middle of all the frenzy. It gave him time to take in his new surroundings; gave him time to think. Well, probably too much time to think, but that was a whole other problem.

His parents had been delighted when Karma had finally started to show some interest in their day trading business. When he had offered to come to London in their place to meet with a new client, they had seemed relieved, and he knew what they had both been thinking: _Finally, he's starting to come around. Maybe he's gotten over all of that silly, youthful optimism and will finally take over the family business and settle down and maybe even start his own family._ He knew that's what his parents thought; he knew that's what they wanted, but it was far from the truth. He had only volunteered to come to London because frankly, he was bored. He was bored with his studies at university. He was bored with his life in Japan. He was bored with his own lack of ambition. And most of all, he was bored by the thought of talking stocks for several hours with one of his parents' numerous clients. Boredom, it seemed, was the main condition of Karma's life. Or at least that's the way it had been for him ever since he'd left behind regular school and the notorious class of 3-E.

 _If your younger self could see you now, he would berate you for your stupid complacency and probably punch you in the face,_ Karma thought to himself as he strolled through the open fields of Hyde Park.

Karma wasn't sure what had happened to him. Was it simply the unopposed march of time? A hard dose of reality? The doldrums of modern life? He had been such a hellion back in school. So utterly rebellious, marching to the beat of his own sadistic, violent drum. He had been smart, too, without the need to study much or try very hard. He had also been a fighter, probably the best in his class (and that was saying something, considering the class). That version of Karma had been vibrant and creative and full of life. So full of promise. And what was he now? A directionless poly-sci major with little to no interest in his family's business. He was a shade of his former self. The glory of school and the class of 3-E was long behind him. The excitement was gone. It was over. And now Karma was left standing in the middle of a park in the city of London, staring at the pigeons by the water, meandering towards a business meeting he had absolutely no interest in.

 _Ah, but that's real life, isn't it?_ whispered a treacherous voice inside his head. _Pointless meetings, ass kissing, dull social contacts. That's real life, and you had better get used to it._

But what if he didn't want to get used to it?

Sighing to himself, Karma walked along the Serpentine, heading in the vague direction of the Park City hotel, the place where he was supposed to meet the client. Another nondescript hotel lounge in another nondescript hotel bar in another city full of nondescript hotels. Karma ambled along, unhurriedly, looking as forward to this meeting as he would an execution. _Scratch that,_ thought Karma. _I would rather have the execution._

Because that, at least, would be _exciting_.

Karma left the park, crossing numerous busy streets until he found his meeting place. He entered the Park City hotel's lounge right at five o'clock. His client, a Mr. Victor Albertson, was already seated in one of the high back chairs at a small, round table. Karma walked by a wall covered with wooden panels etched with cherry blossoms, their thin, skeletal branches forming a spider web behind his head. He went over to the table and introduced himself, shaking the man's hand. Karma made note of the two men in dark suits standing close, but not too close, just behind Mr. Albertson. So, bodyguards then. _This client must be someone important indeed,_ thought Karma as he took the chair across from Albertson. Karma picked up a menu, looking at all the drinks that were available. Deciding he needed something strong to get him through this, he signaled a passing waitress and ordered a rum and Coke. Karma, still staring at the menu, didn't notice his client's attention being drawn to something just over his left shoulder. Something just out of his line of sight.

Something with a flash of blue…

* * *

Nagisa Shiota entered the Park City hotel lounge just after five o'clock. He was dressed entirely in black leather and carrying a motorcycle helmet, his electric blue hair done up in a high ponytail. His eyes were rimmed black with kohl, making their deep azure color stand out like bright neon against the moon-like pallor of his face. Between his blue hair and black leather outfit and hip swinging walk, everything about Nagisa assured that every man's gaze was fixed upon him as he strolled across the lounge and over to the bar, setting his helmet down on its shiny surface with a heavy _clunk!_ He leaned far across the bar, his pose purposefully and perfectly accentuating his best assets, as he stared up into the lounge's long wall mirror at the man seated at a small table just behind him. He caught the man's eye and Nagisa smiled at him, a smile that managed to be both innocent and inviting yet utterly predatory all at once. Nagisa sat down on a stool and waited patiently until a drink-also colored electric blue-was inevitably plunked down in front of him. "Compliments of the gentleman in the brown suit," the bartender recited dully. Nagisa looked up in the mirror and winked at the older man, saluting him with his drink before taking a long swallow. A few moments later a ball of static screeched into life by Nagisa's ear. A familiar feminine voice then said:

"Well, are you in or not?"

"Calm down, Irina, I just hit the bar," whispered Nagisa. "Albertson is sitting at a table right behind me. I got eyes on him right now."

"I'm sorry, Nagisa; it really should be me in there, but Albertson likes them young. And I mean reaaaaally young-"

"-and you're what? Washed up at the ripe old age of twenty-five?" Nagisa snickered. "Don't sweat it, Irina. I got this-"

"-just remember what I told you about Albertson, once you get his attention-"

"-I already have his attention. He's in some sort of business meeting, but he's done nothing but stare at my ass since the moment I walked in here. And he just sent me over a drink." Nagisa took another swallow and grimaced. "A really shitty drink," he added.

"That's my boy," said Irina. "I knew that Dior eyeliner would look great on you-"

"-he's not looking at my eyeliner," Nagisa said through gritted teeth. He got off the stool and purposefully leaned across the bar, snagging a napkin, the movement drawing Albertson's gaze to his tight, leather clad backside like a puppet on a string. "Yup, he's definitely not looking at my eyeliner," Nagisa muttered.

"Whatever, you're the total package. Haven't I taught you well?"

"Yes, you have, sensei," replied Nagisa, staring up at himself-his almost unrecognizable feminine self-in the bar's mirror. "Say, after I'm done here, you wanna go get fish and chips at the Black Friar?"

"I would love to, but I already have a previous engagement-"

Nagisa grinned. "-so you're going out with Karasuma tonight? I didn't know he was in town-"

"-why do you assume it's Karasuma, I didn't say-"

"-it was your tone. You go all giggly school girl whenever you mention him-"

"-I do not!-"

"-it's totally cute, though! So when are you two going to set a date-"

There was an audible groan through Nagisa's earpiece. "-I can't decide! Do you think a spring wedding is too cliched? Or maybe summer? Gah-planning a wedding is too stressful-"

"-more stressful than planning an assa-I mean, a job?"

"Waaaay more stressful," confirmed Irina. "Just you wait. If you ever get into a relationship, you'll see. Assassinations are a cakewalk compared to this. Speaking of which, are you seeing anybo-

"-No. You know the answer is no. The answer is always no. I can't be in a relationship and do...this." Nagisa's eyes slid to the bar's surface, a dejected look overtaking his face.

"-why not? Me and Karasuma have managed-"

"That's because you're both assa-er, are in the same line of work," Nagisa once again corrected himself. "I can't date a normal person-"

"-so don't date a 'normal person'. Date an abnormal person-"

"-thanks for the advice, Miss Bitch, but no thanks-"

"-Tch! There you go again, getting mad at me for no reason. You always call me that when you're upset-"

"-I'm not upset. I just don't want to talk about my private life-or complete lack thereof-anymore," Nagisa answered sulkily. He let his words trail off as he noticed his mark rising from the table behind him. He watched as Albertson, his two bodyguards and another man with red hair walked across the lounge to the hotel's elevator. Nagisa stood up from his stool.

"I'm out, Irina. Albertson's on the move." Nagisa took one last swallow of his drink, picking up his helmet.

"Which means now I'm on the move, too..."


	2. Business Unusual

**Author's Note: Chapter warning for violence, violence, and more violence...Also, the page breaks are there to denote the switch between Karma and Nagisa's POVs, just so you know. I've also decided that I will probably update this fic. every Thursday, since I'm usually off that day.**

* * *

Chapter 2:

Business Unusual

"I'm sorry, Mr. Akabane, but I'm afraid I left the paperwork up in my suite. I hope you don't mind going up to sign?" said Mr. Albertson, rising from his chair.

"Not at all. I don't have anywhere else to be," Karma remarked as he got up and followed Albertson over to the hotel's elevator. The two shades in dark suits followed close behind them, and Karma cheekily ventured, "Do you always bring armed escorts to your stock meetings?"

Albertson laughed. "The bodyguards are just a precaution." Then: "How did you know they were armed?"

"The holsters for their sidearms bulge a bit under their suits, so the cut's all off," Karma answered. A little voice inside his head went, _What the hell? Why would you say a thing like that out loud? Are you completely nuts?_ And then another voice, sounding very much like Karma's fifteen year old self answered:

 _Yes, I'm going nuts! This boring meeting is driving me to distraction. Let's just ditch it, hit Soho and drink the night away-_

Karma shook his head, willing the contrary voices away as he followed Albertson down a long hallway with a carpet done up in a funky geometric pattern. It seemed like all modern hotels had carpets done up in funky geometric patterns. One of Albertson's guards walked up to a door, slid a key card into the lock, and pushed it open. The guard went in first. Karma was starting to become concerned. He turned to Albertson and said, "Not expecting company tonight, are we?"

Albertson's face remained perfectly neutral as he answered, "Like I said, the guards are just a precaution." He walked inside and Karma followed him. Albertson's suite was much nicer than Karma's own, decked out in circular, soothing white furniture spread out over a large sitting area complete with a full bar and kitchenette. A run of floor to ceiling windows provided an excellent view of London's skyline, and Karma felt himself drawn to the sight, despite the warning of danger clanging in his head. _If I was going to assassinate someone in this hotel, I would set up a sniper rifle in the building across the way and wait for the mark to pass in front of these conveniently large windows._ Karma smiled to himself as he parsed out his imaginary plans. His smile wilted as Albertson's voice intruded rudely from somewhere behind him, pulling him out of his revery.

"Mr. Akabane? Mr. Akabane?"

Karma reluctantly left the windows and walked over to the sitting area where Albertson had several contracts spread out over a low, glass table. Karma stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, staring down at the papers and seeing only inconsequential gibberish scratched across their numerous pages. _Just get through this,_ the treacherous, reasonable voice inside him whispered, _It'll make your parents happy._ Karma was just about to sit down when one of the armed guards came into the room and announced:

"Sir, the young lady from the lounge is here. She says she'd like to thank you in person for sending her that drink."

Karma couldn't help but notice the way Albertson's face lit up for the first time that evening. "Ah, yes," said Albertson brightly. "Please send her in. We're almost done here."

Karma quirked an eyebrow at this, but said nothing. Behind him, he heard the room's door open and click shut, and the sound of heavy boots hitting the white, carpeted floor with muffled steps. The hair on the back of Karma's neck began to stand up. A feeling of fear began to creep over Karma's scalp, scuttling across his skin like a herd of invisible bugs.

 _Wait! I know this feeling! I've felt it before-_

Time slowed to a crawl as Karma turned towards the door. He suddenly found himself face-to-face with his past, in the form of a boy with long blue hair and cerulean eyes and a sly, killer smile. Karma went dead still as Nagisa Shiota walked straight up to him, whispered, "Hi, Karma," then raised a 9 mm over his shoulder and fired directly at Albertson, effectively blowing him away-

* * *

-blood splattered across the white sofa like a sprinkling of rose petals as the shot went through Albertson's skull and exited out the back of his head. The man folded like a piece of origami, collapsing half onto the sofa and half onto the floor, a viscous trail of red wending its way over the plush carpet like a bloodied kite string. "Down," Nagisa ordered, grabbing Karma by the collar and shoving him down behind the settee. Unrattled, Nagisa leapt over the sette, gun raised, waiting for Abertson's two bodyguards to enter through the front door. He slid to a stop against the far wall, putting his back to the plaster, waiting. There was a silencer on the gun, but he knew that wouldn't be enough. They would have heard the shot. Any minute now, they would be coming through that door. Any minute now…

A mop of red hair appeared over the settee. "Nagisa?"

Frowning, Nagisa motioned frantically for Karma to get back down. A moment later the front door came barreling open. Nagisa waited until the first bodyguard was several steps in before pushing off the wall, grabbing his neck, and sticking the barrel of his gun directly under his chin and firing. Blood sprayed through the air like confetti erupting from a Christmas cracker and Nagisa held the dead man in front of him, effectively using him as a shield as he backed his way towards the kitchenette. Nagisa moved the corpse backwards in a fast, graceless tango, before dropping him like a sack of bricks and diving behind the island bar. Gunfire peppered the bar's wooden surface, making it look like a termite's lunchtime leftovers. Nagisa had only chosen the island to draw the second guard away from the sitting area where Karma was hiding. _What the hell, Karma?_ thought Nagisa. _What are you doing here in the middle of London with some white slaver scumbag? Now I've got to worry about protecting you while I finish off these guys._

That was okay, though. Because Nagisa was excellent at multi-tasking.

Nagisa stared into the island's shelves, stocked with neatly arranged crockery and fiestaware. He picked out a metal frying pan, took aim at a gilt mirror across the way, and threw it. The mirror exploded into a million diamond like pieces, drawing the other guard's gunfire across the room. Without hesitation, Nagisa slid across the bar, firing his gun in the guard's general direction. He hit him once, twice, before the man fell, screaming in agony at the impact of the bullets, the deep flesh wounds blooming out like red azalea flowers across his white shirtfront. Nagisa stalked over to the last guard, his motorcycle boots thumping quietly over the blood-stained carpet. Nagisa stood over him, and with a look that revealed not a single flicker of emotion, he calmly put two slugs into the guard's head, extinguishing him.

"You there! Drop your weapon!"

Nagisa whirled around. Standing by the settee was a third, unknown guard. He had Karma by the arm and was pressing a loaded pistol to the red-haired boy's temple. "Don't make me repeat myself," he threatened. "Drop your weapon or the ginger haired boy here gets it!"

 _Shit!_ thought Nagisa _There must have been a third one hiding out in the bedroom or something._ Smiling in a way he knew the guard would find disconcerting, Nagisa held up his gun, lowering it to the floor. "That's it," said the third guard in a quivering voice. "Drop that gun and kick it over to me." Nagisa's smile faltered as he noticed the look of genuine fear in Karma's eyes. Without speaking, Nagisa did as the guard asked and he put his gun on the floor, kicking it over to him with the tip of his boot.

* * *

Karma couldn't wrap his brain around what had just happened. Just a few dull moments ago, he'd been in a dreary business meeting. The next thing he knew, he was in the middle of a bloody gun battle, courtesy of Nagisa Shiota, who had appeared out of nowhere like a violent streak of blue lightning. A streak of lightning that had then proceeded to murder an entire room full of people, tearing through Albertson and his guards like some kind of vengeful, leather clad fury. It was unbelievable. It was surreal. It was striking a chord of terror in Karma's heart, causing it to beat faster. And it was…

... _exhilarating!_

Karma hadn't seen Nagisa since high school, and the murderous creature who stood before him now only bore a passing resemblance to the timid, unsure boy he'd been friends with back in Koro-sensei's class. There was no uncertainty at all in this Nagisa. No lack of skill or confidence. No-this version of Nagisa was a fearsome thing to behold. Even now, unarmed, there was that smile on his face. A smile filled with cold, bloody intent. Karma could feel the guard's hands shaking, could feel the pistol wavering at his temple. The guard instinctively knew he was in the presence of an alpha predator, despite that alpha predator's diminutive size and feminized appearance and lack of weaponry. The guard was rightfully afraid, and that fear edged into Karma as the gun continued to shake erratically at his temple.

The smile on Nagisa's face wavered only slightly as he said, almost tauntingly, "I'm surprised at you, Karma. Allowing some random punk to get the drop on you like that. The Karma I used to know would have never allowed such a thing to happen."

"What are you talking about?" The guard asked with an audible crack in his voice.

"I wasn't talking to _you_ ," Nagisa glared at the guard dismissively. "I was talking to Karma. Or at least, I thought I was. I'm not sure whom I'm speaking to now, considering the meek, surrendering coward I see before me-"

"-Now wait just a goddam minute, Nagisa!" Karma interrupted angrily, his old self rising to the fore. "You're the one who came in here guns all ablazing without doing a thorough sweep of the place!"

The sinister, disconcerting smile was back on Nagisa's face. "You're right, Karma. That was my mistake. Of course, before running into you, I had originally planned on luring Albertson to one of the back bedrooms where I could dispatch him quickly and quietly, with me walking out of this suite unopposed and drawing almost no attention to myself. But then you appeared-an unknown variable-and I decided to improvise. Again, that was my mistake-"

Karma narrowed his mercury colored eyes. "Funny, you say it's your mistake yet you still manage to imply this is somehow all my fault-"

"-you two! Stop talking! Or I'll shoot him, I swear it!" The visibly shaken guard jammed the gun barrel roughly into Karma's forehead and Nagisa went preternaturally still in front of him. Nagisa's blue moonstone eyes were fixed like sight lasers on Karma as he said quietly, almost threateningly, "Like I said before, little man, I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to Karma. Or at least, the Karma that used to be in E class with me. That's the Karma I'm addressing now. So if that Karma is still around, I want him to hear me and hear me well: I'm about to make a move and I need you to move with me. I need you to be the ruthless, violent, and cunning boy I used to know. I need you to get yourself out of this. You do understand what I'm saying, right? So, ready or not-"

* * *

"-here we go," Karma finished for him before slamming the heel of one hand underneath the guard's jaw and grabbing his gun with the other. The two of them struggled briefly together in a twisted life-or-death dance before Karma kneed the guard in the balls and took his weapon. Lifting the gun, Karma aimed it at the man's head and then-

 _Nothing!_ He couldn't fire it! He couldn't make himself do it, even though the man had put a gun to his head and threatened his life. The pistol trembled in Karma's hand. And the guard, sensing an opening, lunged for Nagisa's gun that was still lying on the floor. He grabbed it off the ground, raised it, then crumpled like a lifeless doll as a knife whizzed by Karma's ear and embedded itself in the man's forehead. Karma turned to stare open mouthed at Nagisa, who merely shrugged at him and said:

"You remember what Koro-sensei taught us: Always have a second blade…"


	3. No Gentleman

**Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, or put this story on alert. Those things are a great motivator to keep me writing, so keep 'em coming (no, seriously)!**

* * *

Chapter 3:

No Gentleman

Street lamps and store signs flashed by in an orgy of neon, shivering and blinking like the lights inside of a pinball machine. Nagisa's Kawasaki motorcycle weaved in and out of traffic with ease, sliding around creeping cabs blaring Indian music like a bright blue cheetah, accelerating ahead of buses and Porches and tiny VWs. Nagisa had been concerned with how Karma would take to his fast, erratic driving, but it seemed he had nothing to fear. Because Karma had both arms around Nagisa's waist, his chin pressed to his shoulder, and Nagisa could feel his body's vibrations over that of the bike's. And he was laughing.

Karma was laughing.

Nagisa admitted that was a strange reaction to what had just happened. Namely, seeing four people brutally murdered in front of you, and then having your own life threatened in the process. It was definitely odd behavior. But then again, this was Karma. Violence was second nature to him; it was his natural element. Or at least, it had been. He wasn't sure what to make of this older, twenty year old Karma.

... _the Karma that used to be in E-class with me. That's the Karma I'm addressing now. I need you to be the ruthless, violent, and cunning boy I used to know. I need you to get yourself out of this..._

There had been a moment there, back in the hotel room, where Nagisa had hesitated. He had seen the look of fear on Karma's face and that look had bounced from him to Nagisa, and in that moment he had actually hesitated. He'd actually faltered. And unfortunately, that kind of hesitation could get you killed. If Karma hadn't reacted to his goading the way Nagisa had expected, then things could have turned out a lot differently back there. A whole lot worse. Nagisa had banked on Karma still being Karma and fortunately, for the both of them, things had worked out.

But what if things hadn't worked out?

 _Stop it, Nagisa. Focus. Why are you obsessing over one tiny incremental slip up?_ a niggling little voice inside his head asked him.

And a second voice, sounding very much like his fifteen year old self, answered, _Because I could have gotten Karma killed, that's why! And the thought of that happening, well…well…_

 _Well, what?_

Nothing. Nagisa's mind refused to pursue that line of questioning any further. Instead, he focused on the situation at hand, which meant getting away from the scene of the crime and getting Karma back to his room. Luckily, Karma hadn't touched any of the objects in Albertson's suite, and Nagisa himself had dismantled the CCTV cameras aimed at the hallway and the elevators a couple of hours earlier. Other than the witnesses in the lounge, there was no way any of this could be solidly traced back to Karma. Nagisa found himself worrying over the logistics of this in a way that was totally alien to him. Usually, while on a job, he only had himself to worry about. And one didn't waste time worrying about a ghost. Because that was what Nagisa was: a ghost, a specter, a thing that didn't exist on paper. But Karma, he existed. He had a real life in the real world with real world documents and a job and real world problems. And Nagisa didn't want to screw that up for him. Not if he could help it.

The fifteen year old voice in the back of his head snickered at the irony of the situation.

The motorcycle pulled into the backlot of a converted brownstone that had been remodeled into a hotel. Nagisa watched as Karma staggered off his bike, his face glowing red as he said, "That was...that was…"

The comment remained unfinished as Karma dove for some nearby hedges and promptly started vomiting into them. _There,_ thought Nagisa with a raised eyebrow. _That's a far more suitable reaction._ Nagisa waited patiently for Karma to stop retching. After a few more dry heaves, Karma stood up and wiped his mouth and said in an calm, observational tone, "That rum and Coke didn't taste nearly as good coming back up as it did going down."

* * *

"C'mon, we're going up to your room. You can lead the way," Nagisa commanded as he pulled a shellshocked Karma by the arm through the double doors of the lobby. Karma squinted under the harsh glow of the electric lights as he felt another bout of nausea begin to overtake him. He shoved it back down as he noticed two smartly dressed girls behind the front desk staring his and Nagisa's way, along with an older couple who were lingering by the coffee bar. Karma straightened, tugging his black blazer into place. _Just put one foot in front of the other and walk forward,_ the reasonable little voice inside his head told him.

Suddenly Nagisa appeared directly in front of him, blocking his way, breeching his personal space in an unexpected manner. Before Karma even had a chance to process what was happening, Nagisa stepped up to him and linked both arms around his neck, pulling him in close. Karma only saw two orbs of brightest sapphire lined in dark kohl moving towards him like an oncoming pair of headlights as he muttered, "What are you doing?"

"This," said Nagisa quietly before leaning up on tiptoe to kiss him. Every nerve and synapse in Karma's brain began to misfire as a rush of contradictory emotions and impulses began to flood his thoughts.

 _Oh my god! Nagisa's kissing me!_

 _What the hell is wrong with you? Push him away! Why are you letting him do this?_

 _I must have drank more than I thought._

 _Hallelujah! Nagisa's kissing me! I've wanted this to happen since middle school!_

 _I. Am. Losing. My. Mind._

 _Maybe I'm dreaming this…?_

Just as Karma was starting to respond to the kiss in kind, Nagisa pulled his mouth away, whispering by his ear, "Are the two girls behind the desk watching?"

Karma's eyes snapped open and he stared over Nagisa's shoulder. Sure enough, the two girls were looking at them, both of them whispering and giggling. "Yes," Karma confirmed, an unbidden blush rising to his cheeks.

Nagisa's gloved hand slithered through his hair. "Good," he whispered. "I want them to remember us. It'll make an excellent alibi for you."

"Do I need an alibi?" Karma honestly asked.

Nagisa shrugged in his arms. "Can't be too careful."

"Right," agreed Karma. "Can't be too careful." When Nagisa tried to step away, Karma pulled him back into his embrace, murmuring, "Maybe we should do it again just so we'll be sure they won't forget…" With that, Karma sealed his mouth over Nagisa's, his hands delving into those electric blue locks, his lips questing, silently begging for more. _Yes! This! This is what I've always wanted! Right now, more than anything!_ Before Karma could get his tongue into the blue haired assassin's mouth, Nagisa pulled back, his eyes narrowed into icy blue chips. "Down boy," Nagisa chastised, the half smile on his face blunting the impact of his words. "You don't have to pretend quite so hard."

"Who said I was pretending?" Karma answered with a sly look. His flirtatious tone left no room for ambiguity. He clung to Nagisa, liking the feel of him in his arms. Feminine, yet not. Delicate, yet solid. Protective, yet ruthless. A creature made up of contradictions, a paradox in human form. Oh yes, Karma definitely liked what he saw in this new Nagisa. _Ah, but he was always this way,_ said the fifteen year old voice inside his head. _You were just too afraid to acknowledge it._

But Karma wasn't afraid anymore.

No, Karma knew, that for a certain kind of person, there were far worse things to fear. Dull complacency. Unquestioned mediocrity. Unfulfilled desires. Loss of self…

Karma was staring intently into Nagisa's eyes, searching for the answer to a long held question. "Nagisa, I…" Karma leaned forward again, intent on stealing yet another kiss-

* * *

"-Nagisa! Why aren't you answering me?" An electronic voice boomed right into Nagisa's ear.

Nagisa practically jumped out of Karma's arms at the sudden intrusion, whirling around and walking a few paces away. "Your timing is impeccable, Miss Bitch," Nagisa muttered, catching the crestfallen look on Karma's face.

"There you go again with that name! What's wrong with you? Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine, Irina-"

"-you weren't answering earlier and I thought maybe things had went south-"

"-I told you, it's fine. There was a surprise fourth party in the suite and things got a little...messy."

"I thought Albertson only had two guards-"

"-as did I, but apparently I was wrong-"

"-and the fourth party-"

"-dispatched. All four."

There was an audible sigh of relief in Nagisa's ear. "Thank god for that-"

"-listen, I gotta go. I'll contact you later-"

Nagisa could practically picture Irina's eyes narrowing suspiciously as she said, "What? What do you mean? Nagisa, are you going out on a-"

Nagisa ripped off the earpiece and crammed it into his jacket pocket. He stalked off toward the elevators with Karma following close at his heels. The look of surprise was apparent on Karma's face as he said, "Miss Bitch? As in, Professor Bitch? Are you for real?"

The elevator doors slid open and Nagisa and Karma got on. Karma reached across Nagisa and clicked the '3' button. Nagisa looked at Karma and said, "Irina's my senior operative."

Karma's eyebrow shot up. "You chose Professor Bitch to be your S.O.? Over Karasuma? Over Koro-sensei? Over...anyone else?" Karma shook his head in disbelief. "Why, Nagisa?"

Nagisa crossed his arms defensively. "She's not the shallow person everyone thinks-"

"-I know that. But still…"

"It's hard to explain," Nagisa said. He suddenly found himself thinking back to a particular day at school. A day not long after the events of the island and the confrontation with Akira Takaoka...

 _It had been a beautiful warm day, with the midday sun hanging outside the classroom window like a bright, smiling Koro-sensei head. Nagisa was all alone in the classroom with Irina, working on an extra credit assignment for English. Irina was seated at a small portable keyboard, her talented fingers dancing across its keys, filling the small space with notes of Gershwin. Specifically, Rhapsody in Blue. The notes suddenly stopped and Nagisa looked up to find Irina staring at him intently. The intensity of her gaze made Nagisa swallow nervously and he dropped his eyes back to his paper, his natural shyness taking over. Finally Irina said to him:_

" _Nagisa, have you given any serious thought to what you want to do after school?"_

 _Nagisa shrugged without looking up. "I don't know," he answered uncertainly, even though he knew._

 _Even back then, he knew…_

 _Nagisa heard a chair scrape back across the floor and the click of high heels on bare wood as Irina approached him, stopping to lean against his desk. He looked up at her, shrinking back in his chair a little. Then Irina said:_

" _The girls told me about what happened in the upper lounge of the hotel," she said quietly._

 _Nagisa's face immediately went red. When he didn't respond, Irina continued, "Of all the pretty girls there, that boy chose you." Irina paused. "Why do you think that was?"_

" _I...I...don't know."_

 _Irina's eyes narrowed. She grabbed Nagisa's arm, pulling him from his chair. She walked him over to the full length mirror that was positioned just behind her keyboard. She turned him towards the mirror, standing close behind him, holding him in place by both arms. Her reflection said to his over his shoulder, "Remember what Koro-sensei said about the necessity of having a second blade?"_

" _Yes?"_

 _Irina reached around and lifted Nagia's chin with a delicate, perfectly manicured hand. "This," she stated, staring at his reflection. "This is your second blade. If you would just embrace it."_

 _Nagisa stared uncomprehendingly at his own reflection. He saw what he always saw: a short, effeminate looking boy with ridiculous, messy pigtails and a blue vest and slouchy cargo pants. In other words, he saw nothing special. He looked at Irina's reflection with a question in his eyes. Irina smiled what Nagisa thought was a sad smile and she squeezed his shoulders affectionately and said:_

" _You're going to be something special one day, Nagisa. You don't see it yet, but you will…"_

The elevator gave a cheery _ding!_ and both Karma and Nagisa exited through its doors, with Nagisa trailing Karma down the hall. Nagisa watched as Karma fumbled with a set of old fashioned keys, dropping them clumsily onto the carpeted floor. They both knelt down at the same time, reaching for them-

* * *

-Karma froze as he stared into Nagisa's eyes, their faces mere inches apart. He felt nervous, unnaturally so. He couldn't account for this feeling, except for this: the thought of being alone with Nagisa in his hotel room terrified him. And not because he was afraid (although he was). It was because the situation was too much like the real life culmination of so many secret, adolescent fantasies that he'd had about the other boy over the years, for so long and so often, that Karma was literally freaking out. Freaking out like he was fifteen years old again. So when he dropped his keys like a blundering idiot and they both reached down for them, Karma disguised his fear with a flirtatious, bravado filled comment:

"Are you sure you feel safe coming alone with me into my hotel room like this? I'm not a gentleman, you know. As you could probably tell by that kiss I gave you in the lobby."

Nagisa, still kneeling, tilted his head to the side, regarding Karma with an inscrutable expression. "I think I'll be okay. I don't know if you've noticed, but I've gotten pretty good at defending myself."

"From guns and knives, yes."

There was a brief flicker of emotion in Nagisa's eyes at this insinuating comment. He snatched the keys from Karma and stood up and opened the door, pushing his way in without saying another word. Inwardly groaning, Karma followed him inside, the words falling from his lips in a hurried speech as he tried a different tact:

"Listen, I have these tickets for a private showing at the Victoria Albert tomorrow night. It's some sort of artsy fundraiser and the collection belongs to another one of my parents' clients. It's going to be super boring and stuffy and completely unbearable, but I'm supposed to put in an appearance there and anyway...I was wondering if you'd like to be my plus one?"

Nagisa turned and regarded Karma with a look of complete disbelief. "Even though it's going to be super boring and stuffy and completely unbearable?" Nagisa repeated with an arched eyebrow. "Wow, what a way to sell an evening there, Akabane-"

Karma had the good sense to look mortified. "I know, I know. It's terrible," he nodded, grinning like an idiot. "But, it'll be a lot less terrible with you there-"

"-are you seriously asking me out on a date?"

They both stood, frozen into place. "Yes?" Karma said, the word coming out like a question. A few seconds passed and Karma thought for sure he was about to go down in flames when Nagisa narrowed his eyes and said:

"Okay then. Just tell me what time I should show up and I'll be there…"


	4. No Lady

Chapter 4:

No Lady

Under the dark velvet curtain of evening the wash of golden footlights beneath the arched galleries of the Victoria Albert gave it a distinctive Gothic look, the heavy pools of light and shadow playing over its massive central tower and flanking domes lending it the solemnity and appearance of an ancient cathedral. As Karma approached the main entrance from the street, he could practically hear choir music playing in the back of his head, the comparison to a church was so strong. He bounded up the steps to the wooden doors of the main entrance, a sense of excitement, of anticipation, putting an extra spring in his step. It had been so long since Karma had a reason to feel excited about anything; he'd almost forgotten what it felt like to bounce around with unlimited energy, with a sense of purpose, with a feeling that life was just a tantalizing buffet of endless possibilities, a succulent, never ending bounty laid out for him to devour. Karma felt more alive than he had been in years, and the intensity of this feeling had him buzzing, flying high, like he was on some kind of illicit drug. But Karma wasn't on any kind of drug. This feeling had one cause and one single focal point: Nagisa Shiota.

Couples in extravagant evening wear drifted past Karma as he waited nervously just inside the museum's entrance, sailing by him like overpriced pairs of graceful swans. Karma risked a glance down at his watch: _7:10_. Nagisa was officially late. Karma tapped a patent leather foot against the sleek marble flooring. _Nagisa where are you?_ he thought. _If you stand me up, I'll never forgive you._ Karma wasn't used to being stood up. If there was one area (besides hand-to-hand combat) that Karma excelled at with ease, it was romance. Karma had been the best looking boy in his class, a fact which he never forgot, and one which had paved the way over the years through several successful-if impermanent-liaisons.

 _7:20._ Still no sign of Nagisa. A young lady in a maroon blazer and button down shirt approached him and said, "May I see your invitation, sir?" Karma distractedly pulled a cream colored envelope from inside of his jacket pocket and handed it to girl. She looked up at Karma, her eyes widening slightly, as she added, "And this would be your plus one?"

Karma felt a hand snaking around his elbow, taking his arm. "I'm his plus one," replied a husky voice. Karma turned his head to find himself confronted with a stunningly beautiful woman in a long black corseted gown, her eyes elongated like a cat's in winged black eyeliner, her electric blue hair brushed to one side, cascading over her shoulder like a waterfall made of cotton candy…

"Nagisa?" Karma sputtered in open mouthed shock.

Cat like eyes slid his way. "I'm sorry I'm late. I didn't think about the logistics of my bike versus this dress until it was time to go and, well, I ended up having to take a cab…"

Karma couldn't believe his eyes. It was true that Nagisa had appeared fairly girlish when he had come all guns ablazing into Albertson's suite yesterday, but that was nothing compared to the way he looked now. This was feminine turned up to eleven. If it hadn't been for the electric blue hair, Karma wouldn't have recognized him. He could have walked past him and had not even seen the Nagisa he knew-not in this gorgeous, mesmerizing creature. Even now, heads were turning Nagisa's way, the frank, appreciative stares raking him from head to toe. Karma took in the details of Nagisa's outfit: a long, black skirt with a dramatic slit up the side, a corseted bodice made of black leather, sheer sleeves and neckline made of dark, glittery gossamer fabric. After taking all this in, one word and one word only came to Karma's mind: Armor.

This was Nagisa's version of wearing armor.

A knowing half smile pulled at Karma's lips and Nagisa looked at him and said, almost sheepishly, "I'm sorry, is the dress too much? I had a black Armani suit I could have worn…"

Karma's smile widened a bit further. "I admit to being thrown a little bit off guard. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. My life has been lacking in surprises lately." Then he added, as he let his gaze wander appreciatively over Nagisa's ensemble:

"And what man in his right mind would say no to being with the most beautiful girl in the room?"

* * *

Nagisa had spent the previous two hours agonizing over what to wear.

On the one hanger, he had a stunning Elie Saab corset dress, on the other, a sleek black Armani suit. Nagisa had sat on the edge of his bed in a two star hotel in King's Cross, staring at them both, looking from one to the other, his mind a chaotic whirl of paralyzing indecision. Nagisa had thought back to the conversation he'd had with Irina, about how she had told him that planning a wedding had been far more stressful than planning an assassination. Nagisa was loathed to admit it, but she had been right. Navigating relationships-hell, navigating a simple social engagement-was hard. And thinking about the night in terms of an assassination, Nagisa's gaze had landed firmly on the dress. If he was going to approach this date like an assassination-and Nagisa had no other point of reference for dating-then it seemed logical for him to choose the dress. It was, after all, a weapon in of itself. It was beautiful. It was dark. It was alluring. It was deadly.

It turned him into something he was not. Something far more powerful and greater than himself.

Hesitating slightly, Nagisa's hand had reached out for the dress. _Ah, just think, Nagisa,_ chirped an insufferable, intrusive voice inside his head. _If your mother could see you now, she would be so proud…_

That thought had stopped him dead in his tracks, had frozen his hand in mid air.

And there it was. The source of Nagisa's hesitation in choosing the dress. He knew the dress would have been what his mother would have picked for him, and that knowledge alone was enough to drive him away from it. Nagisa's eyes had ticked back and forth between the two garments like the large plastic eyes of a kit-kat clock. _Stop it!_ a defiant fifteen year old's voice had screamed in the back of his mind. _Just stop it! She doesn't control your life anymore, so why are you still allowing her to influence your decisions! You're an adult! You can choose for yourself!_

And then, almost angrily, Nagisa had ripped the dress from its cheap wire hanger…

Nagisa was still working to dispel his mother's voice from the echo chamber of his mind as he entered the domed main floor of the museum, his arm linked with Karma's. All around him were members of London's upper elite, their angular, monochrome outfits a study in sartorial cubism, their icy yet somehow hungry stares brushing over him in both an impersonal and intimate manner. Karma leaned toward Nagisa, whispering, "You've got everyone in the room staring at you."

"At us," corrected Nagisa, shooting Karma a sphinx like smile. They walked up the stairs to the upper gallery, looking down on the large reflective pool in the museum's center courtyard from the vantage point of high, arched floor to ceiling windows. Golden lights shimmied and flickered along the water's reflective surface, blazing like the lit candles on top of a birthday cake. Nagisa caught Karma staring at him from the corner of his eye, the secretive half smile back on his face. "You're smirking again, Akabane. Does something about all this amuse you?"

Karma waited a moment before answering. "Your posture is tense, and your eyes have been combing every corner and exit of this place since the moment you first arrived. Not planning another surprise assassination, are we?"

"Not unless this second client of yours also happens to be a Russian gangster with ties to the Eastern European sex trade-"

"-what?"

"-Victor Albertson. Or should I say Ivanov. You know, your client from last night? He got a lot of his money from kidnapping little girls-some as young as twelve-and illegally transporting them over the Russian border and pressing them into prostitution-"

"-I had no idea. And he's not-he wasn't- _my_ client. He was my parents'-"

Nagisa's eyes flicked towards Karma, who looked genuinely upset by this revelation. "Your parents should choose their business associates with better care," was all Nagisa said. Then Nagisa added, almost hastily, "And I'm sorry about last night."

"How so?"

Nagisa's eyes slid to the floor. "If I had known that was you in there with Albertson, I wouldn't have come barging in like that. I wouldn't have put you at risk-"

"-no, don't say it. Don't be sorry-"

"-why not-"

"-because you wouldn't be standing here with me right now if you hadn't come into that suite. So don't be sorry. I'm certainly not sorry. And if Albertson was the monster you say he was, then good riddance to bad rubbish, is what I say."

Nagisa smiled slightly at Karma's cavalier attitude. "You really don't mind it? What I did-"

"-I was in E class with you, Nagisa. I know what you are. I've always known…"

Nagisa's eyes softened, his rigid posture relaxing at these words. "It's funny, but I thought the reason you and I had stopped being friends that summer after D class was because you thought I was...that I was...dangerous to you somehow-"

"-no, you're absolutely right. That was the reason," confirmed Karma. "I knew you were dangerous-"

"-and now-"

"-and now, I don't care." Karma leaned into Nagisa, his lips millimeters from his ear as he whispered, "Now, I welcome it."

Nagisa felt an unfamiliar shiver tingling along his spine. "You certainly know how to flatter a girl, Akabane," Nagisa said softly.

The smirk was firmly back in place. "I'm glad. Because I thought it was going to take a lot more than that to get you to drop that defensive pose and let your guard down-"

"-who says my guard is down-"

"-you don't see it, beautiful, but right now you're wide open for attack-"

And with that, Karma leaned down and caught Nagisa's lips with his own. Nagisa's back hit the gallery's railing, effectively trapping him between it and Karma. Karma's hand slid up his back, beneath his hair, cradling the back of his head with his hand. Nagisa felt himself surrendering to Karma's machinations, felt his guard come crumbling down with a shattering crash. _You may have surpassed him in the art of assassination,_ said a sneaky little voice inside his head. _But you're waaaaay behind him when it comes to the intricate dance of love._ In that moment, Nagisa allowed himself to do something he hadn't done in years: he gave up all his control to another person. He let Karma attack his mouth head on, let his tongue skirt along the perimeter of his lips, let him slip through all his carefully crafted defensives. Nagisa moaned slightly into the kiss as Karma's tongue swirled into his mouth, the sensation alien but welcome. _Careful,_ said a tiny little voice in the back of Nagisa's head. _You shouldn't allow him through all your defensives so soon._ Breathless, Nagisa broke away from the kiss, his pupils dilated into wide onyx discs. A couple walking by them on the gallery gave them disapproving looks as they passed.

"Careful, Akabane, you're making London's finest nervous with your rather public displays-"

* * *

"-really? So _they_ are the ones I'm making nervous, eh?" Karma asked teasingly, pleased with Nagisa's breathless reaction to his kiss. Karma felt confident in what he was saying and doing; despite the awkward start yesterday, he was back on solid ground here.

 _I don't know if you've noticed, but I've gotten pretty good at defending myself..._

 _From guns and knives, yes…_

Nagisa may have been a master assassin, but it was clear to Karma who had the upper hand here. Another word-one besides armor-came to Karma's mind. It was strange that he should think of it, but it was one which he thought perfectly suited Nagisa: Innocent. Despite all the leather and the bravado and the dramatic make-up, there was something just so tantalizing innocent about the way this particular version of Nagisa reacted to him. Again, Karma felt that giddy sense of paradox: this was a creature who regularly experienced visceral moments of violence and bloodshed, but who was also strangely innocent when it came to other people and their deepest, most intimate emotions.

 _Not to mention his own,_ thought Karma as he studied Nagisa's blown pupils, sanguine cheeks and throbbing arterial vein-all of which were telegraphing a signal of physical longing on Nagisa's part that the beautiful assassin himself seemed to be completely-and innocently-unaware of.

 _Slow down, Akabane,_ Karma thought to himself in a chastising voice. _The night is young and there is still so much more yet to be savored._ Smiling brightly, Karma took Nagisa's lace covered arm and led him away from the gallery. "Let's pretend we're back in school and ditch this boring, stupid Han dynasty exhibit. I hear there's a more interesting David Bowie retrospective in the south wing, full of his old tour outfits and papers with handwritten lyrics. Let's sneak off together and have a look at that instead, shall we?"

Karma felt his heart swell at Nagisa's collusive smile as the two of them slipped away like two misbehaving teenagers to go and explore the museum's shuttered southern wing...

* * *

 **Author's Note: Sorry, not much happened in this chapter except for some character building and shipping. I promise there will be more action again next week...**


	5. Let's Dance

**Author's Note: Chapter warning for blood and violence. Also, this is going up early because of my work schedule tomorrow.**

* * *

Chapter 5:

Let's Dance

Karma and Nagisa were giggling like children as they ducked by the rather incompetent security guard, slipping silent as shadows through the entrance of the south wing. It hadn't taken very much to distract the guard. Nagisa had merely went up to him and complained about a suspicious looking man lurking around the ladies' room, and the guard had immediately set off for the bathrooms, completely abandoning his post in chivalrous service of a beautiful lady. Karma had then snagged a champagne flute from a passing waiter as they darted away, a flute that he was now busy emptying into his waiting mouth as they crept down the darkened hallway, intent on finding the David Bowie exhibit. Luckily, large, clearly marked signs pointed the way. Karma found the door leading into the retrospective and he swept it open for Nagisa, flourishing his arm out in a dramatic gesture. "Ladies first," he said, standing aside. Nagisa straightened his back and went in, his dramatic, hip swinging walk instantly drawing all of Karma's attention to his tight, velvet clad backside. Straightening his tie, Karma followed Nagisa inside, trying his damnedest not to stare. _Don'tstaredon'tstaredon'tstare,_ he mentally coached himself. He had a nasty feeling he would pay for it if he were caught.

Karma found the room's main light switch and clicked it on. Various spotlights sprung to life, highlighting various items on display in a luminous, ghostly fashion: vinyl records and musical instruments and headless mannequins dressed in shiny, futuristic outfits. It was the clothes which drew Nagisa's attention first, and Karma watched as he walked over to a mannequin display made up into a large faux stage, inspecting all of Bowie's various incarnations. First, a pale sleek suit from his Thin White Duke phase. Then, a shoulder-padded plaid ensemble from the Serious Moonlight tour. After that, a shimmery, multi-colored dress from the Hunky Dory days. Karma watched as Nagisa paused before the dress. He couldn't guess the other's thoughts as he stood among the footlights, shadowed like a black clad gargoyle with lightning blue hair. Nagisa turned, opening his mouth as if to say something. Then his blue eyes widened and he launched himself at Karma, pulling him to the floor and rolling on top of him. Karma was surprised. _Wow,_ he thought to himself. _Nagisa's being way more aggressive than I thought he would be._ And that's when Karma noticed a pair of knives sticking out of one of the mannequins.

"Oh, shit," he said reflexively. Karma turned his head to find a man in a dark suit standing just below the footlights, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back into a severe widow's peak. "You there, Ginger!" called the man in a thick Russian accent. "I've been looking for you."

"Me?" Karma arched a questioning eyebrow. Karma felt Nagisa's weight leave him. Karma sat up, leaning back on his elbows. "Why me?"

The man pointed an accusing finger. "You. You're the one who killed Victor. You set up a false meeting with him and lured him to his death."

Understanding began to dawn on Karma's features as he stood up. "Sorry, pal, but you've got the wrong guy. I didn't 'lure' Albertson anywhere. I wasn't the one who killed him-" Karma strolled to the edge of the stage, only to find himself intercepted by Nagisa, who stepped directly in front him.

"He's right," interrupted Nagisa in a low voice. "He didn't kill Albertson." A pause, then:

"I did."

* * *

A twisted smile bloomed across the Russian assassin's face. Behind him, Nagisa noticed two more men hanging out in the background, hovering in the shadows. _Shit!_ Nagisa felt his spine go rigid, his limbs tensing up as the man spoke:

"Ah, well if it isn't _Der Blaue Engel_!" The man clicked his tongue. "Irina Jelavic's young protege, yes? I never thought we would ever actually have the chance to meet."

Nagisa's eyes narrowed. Karma merely looked confused. "What did he just call you? That wasn't Russian-"

"-No, it's German," corrected Nagisa. "He's talking about a club in Berlin-"

The man barked out an evil laugh. "I'm talking about the place-the moment-where your reputation was made, _Der Blaue Engel._ " The man craned his neck around at Karma. "I pity you, young man. You obviously don't know what a vicious, murderous-"

"-shut up-"

"-beast in human form your seemingly-"

"-I said, shut up-"

"-lovely companion is-"

"-I said, SHUT UP!" yelled Nagisa. He reached over and grabbed a mic stand from one of the mannequins. Wielding it like a bo staff, he whipped it around and snagged the Russian around the neck with the pronged base, reeling him in like a hooked fish. Their faces were mere inches apart as Nagisa whispered to him in a low, clearly threatening voice:

"Let's dance."

* * *

"Uh, Nagisa," Karma said in worried voice as two more men morphed out of the shadows like a pair of sinister ink blots. Without taking his attention off the man with the salt-and-pepper hair, Nagisa tossed him his beaded reticule. "There's a party favor for you in there. Have fun with it." At this, the Russian assassin broke away from Nagisa's grip, spinning away and pulling out another pair of serrated knives. Nagisa held the mic stand in a defensive pose and the two assassins circled one another, each stalking the stage like a pair of bristly tigers.

Karma opened Nagisa's purse, shaking out its contents into his hand. Four things fell out: a cell phone, a wallet, a compact, and a pair of brass knuckles. Karma didn't need to guess which one was for him. He took the brass knuckles and dumped the other things back inside. He slid the gleaming metal over his fingers, and a barrage of various memories from school assailed him. Fist fights on campus. Training with Karasuma. Confrontations with actual assassins. Karma jumped down from the stage, landing with animal grace. He walked in between the two nameless men, a confident smirk covering his face.

"So," he said casually, "Which one of you fine gentlemen would like to go first?"

* * *

Predictably, both men attacked Karma at the same time.

The one suit didn't get very far as his feet got caught up in a mic cord that Nagisa turned and sent hurtling in his direction, with the microphone wrapping itself around his ankles like a bolo snare and tripping him up. The split in attention wreaked havoc on Nagisa's concentration, though, as the salt-and-pepper haired assassin took this as the perfect opening to fling another knife at him. Nagisa felt the sinister _whoosh!_ of the knife as it flew by mere millimeters from his face, slicing off pieces of his hair in the process. The locks fell, drifting like silky blue feathers to the ground. _Focus, Nagisa! You don't need to worry about Karma; he can take care of himself! Let him fight his own battles!_ said a stern, chiding voice inside his head.

 _But I can't help it! I do worry about him!_ cried another, younger voice.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair," the Russian assassin recited in a sing-song voice. "You should keep your focus on me, my dear, and quit worrying so much about your ginger-haired boyfriend." Nagisa's brows furrowed together angrily as the assassin came in for a another pass with his knife, a move which Nagisa easily deflected with the superior reach of the mic stand. There was the vicious _clang!_ of metal against metal, the sounds echoing across the stage like a set of brass wind chimes, as Nagisa and the assassin continued their deadly 'dance.' Nagisa swept the mic stand low, seeking to take the assassin's feet out from under him, but he simply turned and jumped onto a pair of guitar amps, grinning like a maniacal court jester as he bounded from one to the other. "I'm surprised at you, _Blaue Engel_. Where is the viciousness, the absolute bloodlust, that you are famed for?" The salt-and-pepper haired assassin taunted him as he leapt across the amps. He then stopped and pointed his knife somewhere over Nagisa's shoulder, and said:

"Is it perhaps the distracting presence of your handsome boyfriend there? Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to be quite as adept at this as you are-"

* * *

Karma was put on the defensive as a gorilla-like man in a dark suit swung at him with large, meaty fists, the threat of those mallet-sized hands driving him back against the footlights of the stage. Karma's reflexes were good and he was a fast dodger, but he couldn't land a punch, not against those long, ape-like arms. He just couldn't find an opening.

 _Shit and goddam it,_ thought Karma as he looked around him for something, anything, that might help him overcome the big Russian oaf. Sensing his distraction, the gorilla backed him into the foot of the stage, taking another violent swing. Karma ducked at the last second and a bulb popped with a loud _crunch!_ as the man plowed into it with his fist. From behind him, Karma heard Nagisa call his name and Karma turned his head and yelled out a warning as he saw the salt-and-pepper haired man jump from the top of an amp at a distracted Nagisa, knife held high and flashing ominously under the stage lights-

* * *

-Nagisa was knocked flat on his back as the Russian leapt on top of him. He held the man at arms length with the mic stand-come-battle-staff, the knife's blade a mere kiss away from his face. Nagisa felt his arm muscles straining as the man shoved the mic stand down against his throat, seeking to trap him with the leverage of his own weapon. Their eyes met over the thin bar of metal as the Russian grinned sadistically in triumph. "See-I told your boyfriend was an unfortunate distraction."

"Nagisa!"

Nagisa heard Karma yelling his name from the footlights. _No! Don't come near!_ Nagisa thought in a panicked voice.

Karma's voice rose as he leapt onto the stage. "Get off of him, Vlad, or I swear-"

Confusion clouded the Russian assassin's face. " _Him_?" he repeated, staring over at Karma, then at Nagisa. And that was it. That was the opening that Nagisa needed. With the strength of his legs, he flipped the Russian over, reversing their positions. Straddling him on the ground, Nagisa produced a knife from a hidden garter sheath beneath his dress-an eighteenth birthday present from Irina-and said, with a sweet smile:

"I'm really a boy."

And then he plunged the dagger straight into the confused man's chest.

* * *

"Fuck!"

Karma landed on his stomach with a graceless thud as the gorilla made a grab for his ankles from the base of the stage. Feeling his fury rising, Karma kicked viciously at the man's face, wishing he was wearing some shoes other than the pair of sleek brogued oxfords he was currently sporting. Karma was close to being pulled over the lip of the stage when a shadow, like that of a large bat, flew over his head. The shadow landed on the gorilla's back, and Nagisa was suddenly there, wrapped around the other man like a beautiful, sequined python. A waterfall of dark ruby red erupted over the stage as Nagisa slit his throat with the other Russian's blade, the colors descending down his shirtfront like a morbid, falling stage curtain. _The end,_ thought Karma as the man slumped against the edge of the stage, blood spattering the footlights. But it seemed Nagisa wasn't finished. Karma watched as Nagisa picked up the discarded mic cord, darting off somewhere in the shadows-

* * *

The other man who had attacked Karma was trying to slip quietly away, crawling along behind a display of electric guitars, when Nagisa suddenly descended upon him like a vengeful harpy, looping the mic cord around his neck and pulling hard. The man's eyes bulged out of his sockets as Nagisa stood over him, viciously digging a pointed stiletto heel into the small of his back. The young, blue haired assassin loomed over him, whispering furiously into his ear:

"Listen to me and listen good. You're going to go back to your _Bra_ _tva_ bosses and tell them that their intel is wrong, that Karma Akbane had nothing to do with the assassination of Victor Ivanov. You tell them, instead, that it was _Der Blaue Engel._ You understand me?" When the man didn't answer immediately, Nagisa repeated louder:

"Do you understand me?" An animal whine slipped from the man's constricted throat, and Nagisa released the makeshift noose. The third man fell to the floor with an air-sucking gasp.

"Now get out of here. And make sure you deliver that message. If you don't, I will find you, and I'll make you regret it. I'll make you into the woman that I'm definitely not." Nagisa watched with cold, steely eyes as the man skittered away on his hands and knees, blatant fear etched across his terrified face. Behind him, Nagisa heard the gentle click of Karma's patent leather shoes approaching. Without turning around, Nagisa heard him ask, in a curious voice:

"What, exactly, is _Der Blaue Engel_?"


	6. The Blue Angel

**Author's Note: Chapter warning for blood, violence, and non-con sexual advances. Please read responsibly.**

* * *

Chapter 6:

The Blue Angel

 _Berlin, Germany, 2 and a half years earlier..._

 _Strains of industrialized bass thumped over the floorboards of the club's main stage, as multi-colored footlights strobed in time with the beat of a Nine Inch Nails song. The song "Closer," to be exact. A long, tanned leg kicked out from behind a glittery curtain, and a girl with long blonde hair wearing a short, spaghetti strap dress emerged, stalking down the lighted runway like a prized Boeing jet. Various hoots and wolf whistles pelted her from shadowy tables on either side as she walked. The girl flipped her hair and mounted a brass pole at the center of the stage, the pulsing, dark beat of the music guiding her steps. Hands with money materialized from out of the the shadows, emerging like a throng of eager gophers into the light, as the girl swept through the choreographed moves of her rehearsed dance. She slid agilely around the pole, spinning like a pinwheel made of gold sequins, shimmering like a tinseled party favor underneath the rainbow colored lights. She teased the audience with her listless eyes and Cheshire Cat smile as she drew closer to the stage's edge-close enough to collect all the proffered cash-before flitting away again like some seductive, untouchable butterfly. The bass thumped and the men whistled and the girl danced and the club-known to one and all as The Blue Angel-partied its way through another typical Friday night._

" _Hey, honey! Get me another pint!"_

 _Nagisa's head jerked up at the obnoxious sound of his name being called. Of course, he didn't have a real name, not here in this place, not as far as these men were concerned. To these men, they were all 'honey'. Nagisa, his hair in pigtails and wearing what was basically a Catholic school girl's uniform, crossed over to the signaling man's table. He dodged a number of groping hands as he went, gritting his teeth as he practically shimmied his way through what was basically a series of fleshy land mines. He'd gotten rather good at it over the past week. Which was a mercy, because one more hand grabbing his ass would probably send him straight over the edge._

 _A very violent and bloody edge._

 _As Nagisa's hand reached out for the pair of bills the man held aloft, he felt his other wrist grabbed and pulled into a different direction. Before he could free himself, Nagisa was jerked bodily over to the opposite table. Nagisa frowned as a man with a loud American accent said, "Where are you off to in such a hurry, cutie? Why don't you have a seat and stick around awhile?" The man grinned a wolfish grin as he stared into Nagisa's eyes over the expanse of his table. Nagisa glared back, his eyes full of daggers._

Don'tdosomethingstupiddon'tdosomethingstupiddon'tdosomethingstupid, _Nagisa mentally repeated to himself. Despite this yogi like chant, Nagisa couldn't help but think of how close the man's bottle of lager was to his right hand. How easily he could pick it up. How wonderful it would sound smashing into his smug face. How red the blood would look as Nagisa took the broken neck and slit his throat-_

 _Nagisa's wrist was suddenly released. A look of fear flitted over the man's face as he stammered out a mumbled apology, his eyes dropping to the table. Smiling sweetly, Nagisa turned and flounced away, collecting his money and heading off toward the bar._

 _Over the dark mahogany bar was a wall sized movie poster of Marlene Dietrich in the The Blue Angel, the eponymous film after which the club was named. Marlene, dressed in a frilled skirt and top hat, her famous legs shown to maximum effect in dark stockings and garters, was easily the classiest thing in the joint. Nagisa was still fuming over the incident with the American as he stepped up to the bar to retrieve his drink order. The bartender, an attractive Scotsman named Rich, started Nagisa out of his revery with a declaration of, "Hey Blue, I saw that guy manhandling you at that table over there. You want me to have Joey and the boys toss him out?"_

 _Nagisa's eyes dropped shyly to the bar. There was something about the bartender's shaggy red hair and lopsided grin that made him uneasy. Made him remember another certain boy with shaggy red hair and a lopsided grin. "It's alright," said Nagisa, looking over Rich's shoulder at the picture of Marlene. "I can handle myself."_

" _I know you can," replied Rich. The lopsided grin was back, and it made Nagisa's heart speed up a bit. "But you're too young-and too sweet-to have to put up with that sort of thing."_

" _I'm not too young," said Nagisa stubbornly. "I turned eighteen last month."_

 _A look of what...pity? Sadness? Disillusionment? flitted across the Scotsman's face. "Like I said, you're far too young for a place like this." With that, Rich turned and grabbed two more beers and placed them on Nagisa's tray. As Nagisa turned to leave, Rich cleared his throat and said in an almost nervous voice:_

" _Listen, Blue, if you're not on shift next Saturday, would you want-I mean, would you be interested-in going out to dinner with me?"_

 _Nagisa's heart thudded in time with the pounding bass of Nine Inch Nails. "Oh, uhm, I don't know. I haven't looked at next week's schedule," Nagisa stammered uncertainly. Even as the words left his mouth, the more logical side of his brain mentally screamed:_ Just what the hell do you think you're doing, Nagisa? You can't go out on a date with this guy! You're on a job! You're undercover! You're here to backup Irina and get experience in the field! _And the final, damning accusation:_

He doesn't know you're really a boy!

 _Nagisa avoided Rich's eyes as the bartender said, in a somewhat crestfallen voice, "Oh, okay then. Well, will you look at your schedule and get back to me?"_

 _Nagisa stared down at the tips of his stacked Mary Janes. "Sure thing," he muttered before darting back toward the darkened tables and the irritating field of handsy land mines. He was intercepted by another cocktail waitress named Louise, who yelled over the music, "Hey, New Girl, that charming American of yours dropped a full bottle of lager on the floor. You need to grab a broom and sweep up that glass, stat!"_

 _Nagisa rolled his eyes, setting down his tray and heading off into the direction of the stockroom-slash-janitor's closet. He walked through a narrow hallway that was lit by a single uncovered bulb colored a garish orange. Nagisa's hair looked vaguely purple under the bulb's bloody electric light. Nagisa had his hand on the stock room's doorknob when his earpiece crackled to life:_

"Nagisa, I got an 'appointment' with Dimitri and a couple of his associates back in private booth number three. I'm about to go in now. I should be done within the next fifteen minutes. Be ready to move."

"Be careful, Irina. I don't like the fact that they check the girls' bags at the door. It limits the amount of weaponry-"

"-don't worry, Nagisa. I have a few surprises up my sleeve. Well, uhm, not my _sleeve_ , per se _."_ There was a sharp laugh, then: "Sit tight. We'll be out of this in a few, okay?"

"Okay." _Nagisa turned the doorknob to the stockroom. A cold, tingling sensation edged its way across his skin just a few seconds before another hand covered his own over the handle. "Hey, just what are-" Nagisa didn't get to finish his sentence as another hand shoved him between the shoulder blades into the darkened supply closet._

" _Hey, cutie." Nagisa squirmed uncomfortably in the unlit closet as a pair of mustachioed lips fumbled roughly across his own. A large unseen hand was on his back, the other on his ass as he was backed into a set of metal storage shelves. Something heavy fell and_ clanged! _loudly by his feet. Hard metal dug into his back as Nagisa pushed at the unmoving man in front of him. "Get off of me!" he hissed into the darkness. Nagisa was groping for the unseen object by his feet when another, familiar voice boomed out:_

" _Hey! What's going on in here?" The details of the storage room blazed into garish, fluorescent life as the overhead light reluctantly sputtered on. Rich, the bartender, was standing in the doorway. The moment his eyes lit on Nagisa and the American, he rushed forward, grabbing the man by the shoulder and yelling, "Hey, you pervert, get off of her!"_

 _Nagisa heard the click of the switchblade before he saw it. "Rich, look out!" warned Nagisa. But it was too late; the first pass was already made as the man sliced through the air with the knife. Nagisa watched the blood bloom across the bartender's chest as he looked down uncomprehendingly at the newly made wound. "Did you...did you just cut me?" Rich asked in a perplexed voice. Then two things happened at once:_

 _The American viciously drove the knife directly into the bartender's stomach and..._

 _Nagisa picked up a fallen bottle of tequila-the object by his feet-and promptly smashed it over the American's head..._

 _Rich collapsed onto the floor, blood spattering the ground around him like fallen cherry blossom petals under the flickering fluorescent light. The American screamed as he staggered forward after being hit in the head. "You sneaky little bitch!" he spat at Nagisa. "I'm going to cut that pretty lit-"_

 _Inhuman screams reverberated through the supply closet as Nagisa drove the broken bottle neck straight into the man's eye, shoving with all his might. Blood flaked the front of Nagisa's white button down uniform shirt, giving it a rather Jackson Pollack-like appearance. Nagisa, his bloodlust rising along with the volume of the man's deranged wails, grabbed a dish towel from one of the supply racks and crammed it into his mouth. He held the broken bottleneck in front of the man's remaining good eye and said coldly:_

" _You just couldn't leave well enough alone could you? You just had to prove that you're a big man with a big ego and a big, stupid knife. Well, the world is better off without scum like you." And then, just like in the fantasy he'd had earlier at the man's table, Nagisa slit his throat with the broken bottle glass, watching dispassionately as the man slid, gurgling almost inaudibly, to the closet floor. Nagisa stood up, still holding the broken bottle, breathing heavily._

Calmdowncalmdowncalmdowncalmdown, _the more rational voice inside his head pleaded, even as the bloodlust was surging through his veins, more potent than any type of heroin or adrenaline shot. Nagisa was shaking like a wind blown leaf as he finally dropped the bloodied bottleneck to the floor. It clinked musically against the hard concrete. He turned and walked over to Rich, who was quickly turning an ashen gray beneath the unforgiving stock room light. He knelt down, his eyes glittering faintly like two cold, distant stars. "I'm sorry, Rich," Nagisa said in a quiet, choked voice. "You shouldn't have gotten in that psychopath's way for my sake. You should've stayed away from me-"_

"Nagisa, I need y-"

 _Nagisa froze at the ominous sound of his earpiece cutting on, then going out. Still breathing heavily, but steeling himself, Nagisa reached over and extracted the still imbedded switchblade from Rich's stomach. It was a long, curved Spanish blade, which he expertly spun and flipped closed. He tucked the knife into a garter sheaf that was hidden beneath his skirt. Then he stood up and walked over to the door of the supply room. He stopped to give Rich's prone, cooling body one last, regretful look before shutting the door behind him and walking back down the hall toward the bar._

 _Electric guitars wailed across the stage like ambulance sirens as a Jane's Addiction song played over the next act. Nagisa, moving as if in a trance, grabbed his tray from earlier and walked behind the bar, his eyes staring blankly ahead. No one noticed him or the blood on his shirt. Nagisa walked over to the corner where he knew the bouncer Joey kept his cricket bat. He picked up the bat and put it on the tray with the two (now warm) bottles of lager. He then covered the tray with a white and blue checkered dishcloth from the bar. Holding the tray aloft with one hand, he walked through the bar's swinging doors, heading back in the direction of the private booths._

Sex is violent! Sex is violent! Sex is violent! Sex is violent! _The Jane's Addiction song was reaching a shrieking crescendo at Nagisa's back as he walked back down the garishly lit amber hallway. The blood on his shirt looked black beneath the bulb's reddish lighting. Nagisa's hand-and the tray he was holding-began to shake as he thought about the two dead bodies lying hidden in the supply closet._

No! Block it out! Irina needs you! _coached the colder, more logical voice inside his head._ Don't think about what happened back there! Stay on task!

"You're too young-and too sweet-to have to put up with that sort of thing..." _Unbidden, Rich's words echoed numbly through Nagisa's mind._ Ah, too bad you were such a poor judge of character, Rich, _thought Nagisa._ I may be young, but you see, I'm far, far from sweet…

 _Nagisa, blood spattered and head held high, walked up to the door leading into booth number three. Without hesitation, he twisted open the knob and stepped inside. Four men-along with Irina-occupied the booth's round, padded interior. One man had a hand around Irina's throat, while his other hand covered her mouth. A second man held a knife to her face. Irina's eyes pleaded silently with Nagisa over the knife's blade. All four men turned to stare at Nagisa as he entered the booth. Smiling brightly, tray still held aloft, Nagisa announced cheerily to the room full of men:_

" _So who ordered a full round from the bar?"_


	7. 3:00 am Blue

**Author's Note: Chapter warning for sexual situations. Also, next week is spring break and I will most likely (maybe, possibly, not sure) not post anything that week, as I will be doing non-sedentary things that don't involve me sitting in front of a keyboard. So FYI to those who are used to my usual Thursday updates; this is not abandonment. On the bright side, please enjoy this extra long chapter (well, extra long for me anyway...:)**

* * *

Chapter 7:

3:00 a.m. Blue

 _Blood spread slowly across the concrete floor, black and oozing and shiny like an oil spill underneath the sputtering fluorescent light. The stain crept closer and closer to Nagisa's feet, moving as if sentient. Nagisa backed away from the spreading stain, staring at the two dead bodies on the floor. Then the body with red hair lifted his head. Nagisa was horrified to see that instead of Rich, it was Karma. In an accusing voice he said to Nagisa:_

 _"Why did you kill me?"_

Nagisa jolted awake, nearly falling from his perch on the window sill. He had obviously nodded off, a fact which made him angry. He hadn't meant to fall asleep like that. Uncurling from his stiff position, he padded softly across the small hotel room, entering its even smaller bathroom. Nagisa went to the sink, turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face. Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, Nagisa could see the smudged remnants of black eyeliner ringing his eyes. He looked haunted. Hell, he _felt_ haunted, especially after that dream he'd just had.

 _Why did you kill me…_

Nagisa squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the awful memory/dream. _That_ was the part about what happened at The Blue Angel that still bothered Nagisa. The part that continued to haunt his dreams. Not the part with Dimitri and his men in the booth; not the fact that Nagisa had single-handedly bludgeoned four men to death with a cricket bat until the room looked like a scene from the horror movie "The Shining." No, the part that Nagisa still had nightmares about was the part with Rich in the supply room. It was the first time that Nagisa had really been made aware of the idea of 'collateral damage.' Unfortunately, he'd been made aware of that phrase only because of the gigantic, explosive fight that he'd overheard Irina and Karasuma having after it was over…

 _"-six bodies, Irina! And two of them completely unrelated to your mission. Two of them innocent bystanders-"_

 _"-there will always be collateral damage-always! Sometimes it can't be helped! And that American was not 'innocent'! He shoved Nagisa into a closet and tried to rape him-"_

 _"-and to you that was worth murder-"_

 _"-have you ever had a man shove you into a closet and try to rape you-"_

 _"-Nagisa is not a girl-"_

 _"-well, I have! And Nagisa being a boy is irrelevant! I'm not going to ask you, as a man, to try and understand this. Let me put it a different way: What if it hadn't been Nagisa? What if it had been some other poor eighteen year old girl, someone who had no way to defend herself? That asshole has probably raped a dozen different girls in a dozen different clubs and I support my protege in his choice to take him out. Not to mention that idiot had just shoved a knife into some poor ignorant worker who was unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. That man was a rapist and a murderer, and he deserved to die-"_

 _"-I understand your point of view, Irina, I do. But that was only Nagisa's third time out in the field, and you have to admit that what happened in there was a complete shit show. I'm telling you, he's not ready-"_

 _"-I disagree-"_

 _"-he's not ready for this-"_

 _"-he saved me, Karasuma! Because he is that strong, and that good! You're being overprotective, as usual-"_

 _"-so you think it's Nagisa I'm protecting? Then that just goes to show how little you understand the situation…"_

Nagisa had stopped listening by that point. He had been like a piece of tempered steel through the whole incident back at the club, but the moment it was over, he'd devolved into a shivering, crying wreck. Nagisa didn't like thinking about his own behavior from back then. Or the rift that he'd nearly caused between Irina and Karasuma. But they must have come to an understanding somehow, because by the following week, the two were going out again as if nothing had ever happened.

Nagisa didn't understand how they could do it…

A muffled sound coming from Nagisa's bedroom caused his head to jerk in that direction. Pushing open the bathroom door, Nagisa walked back into the darkened, shadow laden room. The old alarm clock on the bedside table glowed _3:32 a.m._ in red LEDs. There was a dark, round lump in the center of the bed, covered with a cheap blue and yellow duvet. Messy red hair could be seen sticking out from under the coverlet. Feeling a surge of overwhelming emotion, Nagisa went to the bed and sat on its edge, his hand reaching out for that messy mop of hair.

 _Why did you kill me…_

"Karma?" The moment Nagisa's fingers touched those silky strands of hair, a hand shot out of the darkness and grabbed his wrist-

* * *

Karma awoke with a start. He'd been dreaming something terrible, but he couldn't remember what it was. In the darkness, a figure was looming over him, a ghostly hand reaching across his face. Thinking he was still in the dream, Karma grabbed the arm of his unseen attacker, pulling him across the bed. There was a struggle, then a familiar voice said his name:

"Karma?"

"Nagisa?" Karma blinked unseeing in the darkness. Awareness dawned on him slowly. He looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings: a small white clothes cupboard, a tiny bedside table, a narrow sideboard with a cheap electric kettle and tea accoutrements sitting on it. Then he remembered. He wasn't in his hotel room; he was in Nagisa's. The blue haired assassin wouldn't let him return to his own hotel, not after the attack in the Victoria Albert. So Karma had accompanied Nagisa back to his hotel in King's Cross. That's why he was in this tiny shoebox of a room. A musty, garishly painted room.

"Karma, let go," complained Nagisa. He was lying half on top of Karma; the light from the room's single picture window that overlooked the garden cut a bluish beam of icy luminescence across one side of his face. The dark smudges beneath his eyes made them look empty, hollow. Concerned, Karma sat up, pulling Nagisa with him. "Hey, are you okay?"

There was a heavy silence, then Nagisa said, "Tomorrow, I want you to get on a plane and go back to-"

"-no!" Karma's response was instantaneous. "I'm not leaving here."

What he really meant was: _I'm not leaving you._

Then Nagisa said, "It's too dangerous for you here, with the _Bratva_ hanging about-"

"-I don't care about the danger. I'm used to danger. We had danger coming at us all the time back in the End class, remember?"

"-yes, but this time, there is no Koro-sensei around to bail you out-"

"-no, because I have _you_ to bail me out. You. You're the badass assassin now."

Silence. A single eye glittered under a faint slice of icy blue light. "You know, I killed s-five men that night in the Blue Angel. Four I beat to death with a cricket bat for threatening Irina. The fifth, I cut his throat with a broken bottle neck, after I had jammed his eye out with it." When Karma didn't respond to this confession right away, Nagisa said, with an obvious hitch in his throat:

"And I enjoyed it. I enjoyed killing all of them." Something between a whine and a sob came out of Nagisa's throat.

"Shhh. Come here." Instead of letting him go, Karma pulled Nagisa closer. The embrace was awkward, with Nagisa lying in a half reclining position across Karma's chest, but Karma refused to let him go. He sensed that if he did, then Nagisa might just fall apart, that he might just fly into a million pieces. Dressed in a plain cotton t-shirt and shorts, completely divested of all his glittery, feminine armor, Nagisa looked almost like he did back in school: like a small, harmless feminine looking boy. And Karma wasn't sure which-the boy or the glitzy glamazon-was the actual illusion.

Nagisa's shoulders trembled beneath Karma's hands. A quiet voice in the darkness asked him, "Karma, am I still me?"

"What?"

"Am I still me?"

"Of course you're still you; who else would you be?" Karma smoothed back Nagisa's hair and affectionately kissed the top of his head. "You're just overthinking things. Let it go. Let what's in the past stay in the past. You don't have to confess to me like I'm some sort of judge or priest. I'm neither of those things, and I'd never judge you, Nagisa-"

"-I'm not...I'm not good for you, Karma. I don't want you to wind up as just another piece of collateral damage in my-"

"-why don't you let me decide what's good for me?" interrupted Karma. " And I happen to think that you're perfectly good for me. In fact…" _Go on, take a deep breath, and just say it._ "I think that you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. See, tonight, I thought I was going to what was destined to be the most boring, soul-sucking social event of the season, and instead it was the best, most insane, most exciting date I'd ever had in my life. And no one's ever given me brass knuckles as a first date present. No one. It was perfect. And not only because you're _you_ , though that was definitely a part of it. No, It was because I was more _me_ -more me than I've been in years-while I was with you. And I don't want that to end-"

"-Karma-"

"-so don't tell me to get on a plane and leave here tomorrow. Because I'm not going to do that. Not until I see where this takes us-"

"-and just what is 'this'?"

Karma saw one glittery eye staring at him in the semi-darkness. Karma slid his hands up into that tangle of wild blue hair. " _This_ is whatever you want it to be."

"Do you...do you like me better as a boy or a girl?"

Karma smiled at the question. "I like you anyway I can get you," he answered sincerely. "You're beautiful either way. In heels, in flats, in leather, in sequins, in…" Karma stopped to tug at the hem of Nagisa's ringer T. "In...whatever the hell this is."

Karma could hear the smile in Nagisa's voice as he said, "It's a t-shirt and shorts! What do you think I sleep in? Full biker leather?"

Karma shrugged. "Beats the hell out of me. The way you've been standing guard over me all night-"

"-I was just worried-"

"-well, stop worrying. And don't go back to that stupid perch by the window. Stay here. With me." Karma could feel the tension return to Nagisa's form as he said this. Karma didn't release his grip on him though. After a moment, Karma said:

"Are you afraid of me?"

A quiet voice answered him. "No. Not of you."

"Then what?"

" _This._ I'm afraid of _this._ "

"And just what is 'this'?" asked Karma, teasingly repeating Nagisa's own words from earlier.

Karma could feel Nagisa's eyes burrowing into his own through the blue, vaguely moonlit room. The smile was back as Nagisa repeated Karma's own answer. "I guess... _this_ is whatever I want it to be?"

Karma smiled. "Exactly. So relax. And stop worrying-mmfph-"

* * *

Nagisa was as surprised as Karma was by the kiss that Nagisa gave him. Nagisa had tried to take Karma's advice and stop overthinking things. Instead, he tried desperately to _feel_. And feeling wasn't a luxury he usually had. Not out in the field, not out on the job. No, while at work, Nagisa usually did his best to _stop_ feeling. And now that he was letting all those pent up feelings out, they came crashing down over him with the obliterating, earth shaking force of a tidal wave.

Nagisa grabbed either side of Karma's face and edged in closer, with the safety barrier of the duvet crammed in between them. He pressed his lips against the redhead's, felt the security blanket of Karma's arms wrap tighter around him. Once again, Nagisa gradually gave up the white knuckle tight sense of control he usually had over himself. He simply let go and put himself into Karma's more experienced hands. Still, he couldn't help letting out a little yelp of surprise when the redhead suddenly grabbed him and flipped him over, pulling the cheap, polyester duvet over them both. Nagisa felt a small sense of panic take over as Karma moved aggressively over him, kicking apart his knees and settling his weight in between his legs. Soft lips gently caressed his jawline as Karma planted a heated trail of kisses across his face. So many conflicting feelings were washing over him, so many different emotions, that Nagisa felt like he was drowning in them. Like he was going under and he couldn't stop…

Agitated, Nagisa whispered, "Karma, I-"

"-shhhh. It's okay, Nagisa-"

"I-I don't know what to do. I've never-"

"-you don't have to do anything, Nagisa. Just let me take care of you. Just this once. You don't have to do anything for me, I promise-"

"-but I-"

"-I'll stop if you want."

Hot breath skimmed across his neck and Nagisa shivered in response. _Don't think, just feel._ Nagisa closed his eyes.

"No, don't stop…" Nagisa said. He tilted his head back as Karma's hands slid beneath his t-shirt, his fingers drawing soothing circles across his skin. His touch was light, deft, and unconsciously (or perhaps consciously) teasing. Karma continued to rain moth-like kisses over his neck as his fingers swirled up and down and over his navel, round and round, back and forth. Nagisa mentally hurried those fingers along, even as they stubbornly remained in the same place. Nagisa, unthinking, felt himself desperately arching into Karma's touch, felt himself reaching out for something he never knew he even wanted. He was caught off guard by the unexpected jolt of electricity that shot across his spine as Karma finally swept a single, nimble finger up and over his nipple. _Yes! Please! More!_ thought Nagisa as those clever fingers stopped to tease and pinch the pink, virginal bud. Soon, Nagisa was writhing beneath Karma's expert touches, squirming as Karma continued to caress and tease and mercilessly pinch him, awakening within him an animal need, a desire, that he never knew he possessed.

"Karma…" Nagisa breathed out his name as he leaned up for yet another kiss. This time it was sloppy and hungry and completely open mouthed. Nagisa sucked greedily at the tongue that Karma pushed into his waiting mouth. The sensation was heaven-complete and utter heaven: the feel of the tongue is his mouth, the fingers on his nipple, the heaviness of the hard, writhing body rubbing against his own, the throbbing erection between his legs. Everything was wonderful, giddy sensation, and it was all his for the taking…

 _This is whatever you want it to be…_

"So beautiful," Karma mouthed into Nagisa's skin as he pulled up Nagia's t-shirt and began kissing his way down the front of his chest. Nagisa, unprompted, pulled his own shirt over his head and tossed it aside. "Ngh!" Nagisa gasped and threw his head back as Karma's mouth locked onto one of his nipples, the unbidden _zing!_ of erotic sensation running up and down his body like vibrations running through telephone wires. There seemed to be a line running straight from his nipple right down to his crotch. Nagisa, unused to such intimate teasing, felt his cock stiffen to an almost delicious, painful degree. It was unbearable. It was irresistible. It was too good-and too hot-to last.

His nipple was finally, mercifully, released. Warm, wet kisses slithered down his chest, lips stopping to pause just above the waistband of his shorts. He heard Karma say softly:

"I can still stop if-"

"-no, don't."

Jagged shards of deep blue moonlight cross hatched the bed as Nagisa watched Karma's mop of red hair disappear beneath the covers. He felt, rather than saw, his shorts being pulled down. The anticipation, the expectation, was almost too much for him to bear. As hot breath whispered over his member, Nagisa closed his eyes and forced himself to remain still. He bucked the moment he felt a tongue caress the underside of his cock.

"Sorry," muttered Nagisa, embarrassed.

"Don't be. Just relax," said a muffled voice from underneath the covers. A warm wetness ran up and over him, electrifying his nerves. It was like being set on fire and doused with icy cold water, all at once.

Nagisa's breathing sped up. "Karma, it feels too-"

"-Shh. Just go with it." Nagisa arced, hissing out a low moan as Karma finally took him into his mouth. It was almost impossible to not shove himself all the way into that hot, enticing cavern, but Nagisa forced himself to stay relatively still. He let Karma set his own pace. Nagisa groaned aloud, surprised by the unfamiliar sounds coming from his own throat, as Karma sucked him, his head bobbing up and down in an entrancing, evenly paced rhythm. Nagisa's heels unconsciously thumped against the mattress as Karma slid a hand beneath his balls. The tidal wave of sensation was almost too much to bear, was almost too much to take, and yet he wanted it desperately. He wanted to go to wherever this feeling dared to take him.

Karma quickened his pace and the drowning feeling returned. But it wasn't a bad feeling, just unfamiliar, and with it came a twin sense of fear and longing. Nagisa felt himself inching toward something that was just out of reach, that was just over the horizon. Faster and faster Karma moved, speeding up in time with Nagisa's own moans and desperate, panting breaths. Everything contracted, intensified, until he could feel himself being pulled, until there was a high, imminent wave about to crash over him, around him, on him, sucking him blissfully under. Nagisa felt himself drowning, falling, until wave after wave crashed over him, pulling him into a sea of pure sensation, until everything, all of it-his skin, the room, the light of the frosty moon-turned a dusky tinge of oceanic blue. Blue like his hair and eyes, like everything inside the room.

"Karma…" Nagisa choked out the redhead's name with his release. Nagisa's body shuddered and he abruptly went limp, his limbs quaking like cold jello beneath Karma's hands. The covers were abruptly pushed back and Karma crawled up beside him, curling his arms protectively around him. The redhead kissed the top of his head and pulled the duvet up and around them. Karma whispered in his ear:

"Go ahead and sleep, love. I told you _I_ was going to take care of _you_. So go to sleep. I promise I'll watch over you til morning."

And hearing this, Nagisa closed his eyes, and drifted off into the most peaceful, blissful sleep he'd ever had.


	8. If You Should Fall

Chapter 8:

If You Should Fall

Bright, intrusive beams of sunlight fell right across Nagisa's eyes, causing him to grimace and burrow further beneath the welcoming darkness of the covers. Dusky blue had long given way to brassy gold, as the morning sun crept through the window to warm and illuminate and claim every unlit corner in the room. Groggily, Nagisa realized he'd must have left the curtains open last night…

 _Last night…_

Nagisa smiled sleepily to himself beneath the blankets. A smile that was soon followed by a face suffused with growing warmth as certain choice details from the night before came slowly back to him, flashing up on the view screen of his mind like clips from a particularly salacious late night movie. But even that embarrassment was short lived. Because for once, Nagisa was happy. And it was all because of one person.

Karma.

Nagisa couldn't believe how easily Karma had accepted him. _All_ of him: the boy, the girl, the assassin with an undeniable bloodlust for killing-all of it.

 _I killed them all. And I enjoyed it..._

That confession hadn't been easy for Nagisa. It was like speaking aloud a secret that he had carried inside him, like a weighted stone, for nearly three years. Even though he'd only ever used his talents as an assassin on the Most Evil, Most Terrible, Most Awful of Men, he had thought for sure the moment he had spoken those words aloud that Karma would look at him like _he_ was the monster, like he was a twisted thing of unspeakable depravity.

But instead, he had only looked at him with love.

Nagisa had never felt more wanted or more secure, falling asleep in Karma's arms like that. He'd never even thought such a thing could be possible for him. That someone could be that generous, that giving. That someone could accept him and care for him like that.

That someone could love him.

 _This is whatever you want it to be._ So was that what this was? Was this love? Nagisa could find no other explanation for the warm, glowing ball of happiness that radiated out from inside him like a small, miniature sun. Smiling wider, Nagisa reached out across the bed, his fingers groping through the blankets.

"Karma?" Nagisa promptly pulled off the covers and sat up. Karma was nowhere to be seen. Thinking that he was perhaps in the bathroom, Nagisa crawled out of bed and padded the small five steps over to the bathroom. He knocked on the door. "Karma?"

No response. Nagisa felt the little ball of happiness within him begin to shrink as anxiety and panic took over. _Maybe I was wrong,_ thought Nagisa. _Maybe he doesn't really care for me. Maybe he had second thoughts. Maybe he realized that I really am a monster and-_

 _Stop!_ screamed an angry voice in his head. _Just stop it! You don't know that for sure! You don't know anything!_

Nagisa raked a shaky hand through his hair, contemplating his next move, when he heard the distinctive sound of a key turning in the front door lock. Whirling around, Nagisa watched as Karma awkwardly tried to maneuver his way through the entrance while balancing a cardboard drink carrier filled with Starbucks cups and a second shopping bag with an H&M logo on it. Nagisa rushed forward and snatched the drink carrier from his hands. As if nothing were amiss, Karma smiled brightly and said, "Oh, you're finally awake."

Before he could say anything else, Nagisa said, almost accusingly, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

Karma froze, his mercury colored eyes blinking innocently. "Uh, getting us coffee from across the street? I thought you might like a latte." Karma then held up the other bag he was carrying. "And I needed something else to wear besides this," he said, gesturing to the button down shirt and dark slacks that were the remnants of the Tom Ford suit he'd worn to the fundraiser the night before. "You know, since you won't let me go back to the hotel to get my other clothes. And I'm not going commando all day, no way."

Nagisa's eyes narrowed uncomprehendingly. "What...why are you going commando?"

Karma's lip twitched up in a familiar half grin. "After what we did last night? Well, uhm, let's just say a good time was had by all, and leave it at that. Anyway, like the true gentleman I am, I elected to sleep in the wet spot, but, er, you might want to send those sheets down to be cleaned. My underwear is beyond saving, though."

Nagisa turned as red as Karma's hair at this speech. "I can't...I can't believe you-"

Karma plopped down on the edge of the bed, his grin widening further. "Besides, what did you think was going to happen while I was out? That the _Bratva_ were going to assassinate me in the middle of a King's Cross Starbucks in front of CCTV and the whole world? Not likely."

Nagisa turned away. He didn't want to admit that he'd never even given the _Bratva_ a single thought, that the real reason he was upset was because he'd thought that Karma had skipped out on him. A smug little voice inside his head said, _See, you got panicky over nothing. You're just too inexperienced to know how these things work. So why don't you trust your feelings for once and stop worrying. Why can't you just let yourself be happy?_

 _Just be happy…_

Nagisa felt warm hands slide around his arms, embracing him from behind. A Starbucks cup appeared in front of him. Smiling, Nagisa took the cup from Karma's hands. Brushing aside his anxiety from earlier, Nagisa took a long drink and relaxed in Karma's arms. The next words out of the redhead's mouth almost made him spit out his drink.

"Oh, and Irina came by this morning."

Nagisa spun around, flailing out of Karma's embrace. "What!? Are you kidding me? What time is it?" He looked at the clock on the nightstand. It flashed _10:02._ "Jesus, I can't believe I slept that long!" Nagisa dove across the bed, his hand awkwardly paddling for the cell phone he'd left on silent over on the bedside table. There were almost a dozen missed text messages on it, all from Irina, with the last one blaring out from the screen in all capital letters:

YOU DOG I CANT BELIEVE YOUVE BEEN HOLDING OUT ON ME! HIDING AWAY WITH KARMA AKABANE IN UR HOTEL ROOM FOR 2 DAYS & HERE I THOUGHT U WERE STILL A VIRGIN-

Nagisa could hear Karma snickering as he read the message over his shoulder. He cradled the phone protectively against his chest and shot him a withering look. "You shouldn't be reading other people's texts," he chastised. The mischievous grin was back on Karma's face and he shrugged and said, nonchalantly, "Oh, and Irina wants us to go out with her and Karasuma tonight. To some fancy sounding restaurant out on the west end. I wrote the name down on the back of the note I left you this morning."

"Note?" Still half sprawled across the bed, Nagisa carefully picked up the blatantly obvious piece of paper that was propped up against the lamp on the nightstand. _Gone out for coffee. Back in a few. Love, Karma._

 _Love, Karma._ Nagisa smiled at that and flipped the note over. _Claridges, 7:00._ Nagisa frowned and said, "Why didn't you wake me when Irina was here?"

Karma noisily slurped Starbucks. "Because you were dead to the world, snoring like a chainsaw, and I thought you could use the rest." Karma paused. "And Professor Bitch seemed like she was in an, er, interrogating kind of mood." Another pause. "Why didn't you tell her about me?"

"I do not 'snore like a chainsaw'!" whined Nagisa, ignoring everything else that Karma had just said. But the redhead just sighed and set his cup on the sideboard, his expression turning more serious. Nagisa was surprised by the next thing he said:

"Is it because...is it because you still want me to get on a plane and go? Because if you do-"

"-no!" Nagisa instantly cut him off. "No, I don't! I mean, well, I still don't think it's entirely safe for you here, but…"

"-but what? Why didn't you tell Irina I was here?" Karma tilted his head to the side, his face unreadable. "Is it because you're too embarrassed to be seen with me or something? Do you feel you have to hide me?"

"What? No! Why would you think that? And why would I want to hide you? You're rich, you're smart, you look like you just stepped off the cover of GQ, even in yesterday's clothes…" _And last night you licked me up and down like a lollipop without asking for anything in return._ Nagisa shook his head emphatically. "No, you're the one who should be embarrassed to be seen with me. I'm a short dorky mess with bad hair. I mean, just look at me."

Karma smiled softly, almost wistfully, and it reminded Nagisa of the way that Irina had smiled at him that day back in the classroom. _You're going to be something special one day, Nagisa. You don't see it yet, but you will..._ Now Karma was the one shaking his head. "Wow. Just...wow."

"What?"

Karma was still shaking his head. "Nagisa, have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? I mean, you're hot. Like, completely, utterly, burning-down-the-house, smokin' hot. And last night at that stupid gala everybody in the room had their eyes on you. _You_. And I can't believe you don't-you can't-see that."

Nagisa turned bright red. "I mean...I know when I'm all done up like a girl I look good, but that's not me all the time. It's not this-" Nagisa gestured up and down at himself.

"But it is you. All the time. And why are you talking about yourself like you're two separate people? The boy and the girl-"

 _Because it's almost like I am two separate people,_ thought Nagisa. _And she-the girl-is a vicious killing machine._ But Nagisa didn't voice these thoughts out loud. Instead, he bowed his head and smiled sheepishly and muttered, "Do you really think I'm hot?"

Those warm, comforting arms were back around him in an instant. "Isn't it obvious I do, especially after last night?" whispered a husky voice next to his ear. Nagisa looked up at Karma, his heart fluttering in his chest at the intense, raw desire he saw in those eyes. Feeling himself scorched by the overwhelming heat in that gaze, Nagisa squirmed out of his embrace. Suddenly, the unmade bed seemed too close, too distracting. Turning away from it-and Karma-Nagisa walked to the window and said, over his shoulder, "Do you really want to go out with Irina and Karasuma tonight?"

"Of course I do. It would be nice to see them again after all these years."

"Oh...okay. And what should we do until 7?" Nagisa's eyes unconsciously slid back to the bed, his heart pounding like a bass drum as he waited- _Expectantly? Nervously? Feverishly? A combination of all three?_ -for Karma's response.

Karma plopped down on the edge of the bed. "Well, since I was responsible for last night's date-come-assassination attempt, I thought maybe you could show me some place in London that you like. I'm assuming, of course, that you've been here before-"

"-that's classified information, Mr. Akabane-"

"-well, I was hoping you, Mr. I-may-or-may-not-have-been-here-before, could decide where to go for our next date."

Despite himself, Nagisa smiled. "So you want to go roaming around London now? Even though the _Bratva_ are probably going to be looking for me, or rather, _Der Blaue Engel_?"

Karma's eyes narrowed. "Yes, but they think _Der Blaue Engel_ is a girl right?"

"Right."

"So don't go as a girl," said Karma, grinning, as if this strategy should be perfectly obvious. "Just pull your hair back, throw on some jeans and a t-shirt, and..." And here Karma flourished his arms in a wide, dramatic gesture.

"...you and I will paint the whole town red!"

* * *

 **Author's Note: Hey look! I managed to post this week after all! But on the other hand, er, sorry, not much happened here except for some more character building and shipping. And no Karma POV either. I promise he'll be back next chapter. :)**


	9. Darkling I Listen

Chapter 9:

Darkling I Listen

The subway car rocked back and forth in a lulling, soothing rhythm, comforting as a cradle to a baby, when the overhead P.A. system announced the impending stop for Hampstead. Karma and Nagisa were scrunched up against one another on one of the train's end seats as commuters sat packed together in neat rows like besuited, monochromatic sardines. Karma's eyes drifted lazily over the other occupants as they mostly stared down at newspapers or phones or tablets, habitually and ritualistically ignoring the other people on board. An older gentleman in a green cardigan sitting across from them had his gaze (uncharacteristically) trained over at Nagisa, and Karma easily recognized the look in his eyes as he stared intently, almost uncomfortably, at the oblivious boy. _Fascination and fear and desire._ Karma recognized the look easily because he knew that's how he looked and felt whenever his own gaze locked on Nagisa. _You don't know how wrong you are about yourself, Nagisa. You are beautiful and dangerous and magnetic and the rest of us are just small, inconsequential satellites rotating in your orbit,_ he thought as he leaned back and casually slid a possessive arm around the other boy. Even in a striped t-shirt, skinny jeans, motorcycle boots, and-Karma noted wryly-black nail polish, Nagisa still had the power to fascinate-as evidenced by the older man's unwavering and obsessively parsing stare.

After exiting the train the two of them climbed what seemed to be an infinite number of stairs before emerging, squinting, into the pale light of day. Karma found himself in what looked to be a small, neat village, its cobbled lanes, old fashioned pubs and numerous used bookshops with musty green awnings making the area look like something that was pulled out of time. They had travelled to the very last stop on their London travel card, but Karma had no idea what they were doing here. As they started marching down a hill, Karma finally asked, "Is there some special reason you've brought me to a place that looks like a medieval village?"

"Yes," said Nagisa, turning to cast Karma a beatific smile that made Karma automatically smile in return. "Banana chocolate crepes."

"Banana chocolate crepes?"

"Banana chocolate crepes," Nagisa repeated, his stride never slowing. "The very best crepes in all of Europe."

"So you're taking me to a restaurant that serves crepes?"

"It's not a restaurant," Nagisa answered mysteriously, bounding off down the hill like a carefree puppy. Karma had to jog to catch up. "You know, it's nice to see you without all your armor," Karma happily commented.

"What?" said Nagisa, brows furrowing at him questioningly.

"Nothing," said Karma, grinning and shaking his head. He tried again: "You just seem...less on edge. Happy, one would almost say."

"And why shouldn't I be happy? It's a beautiful day out, the sun is shining, and I'm about to have a faceful of sweets."

"So I just need to apply sweets to get through all of that armor? Good to know."

Nagisa's eyebrow shot up. "What are you talking about?"

"You, Mr. Shiota. You're a hard one to figure out. A regular walking paradox."

The eyebrow remained up. "Am I? Then maybe you should take notes, like I did with Korosensei. Like, you could write, Nagisa's weakness #1: Reverts to the mentality of a five year old in the presence of banana chocolate crepes."

Karma laughed at that. "Oh, don't worry, I am taking notes," he answered slyly. " But they are all up in here." Karma tapped his temple.

"Oh? And what have you discovered so far?"

"Well, for one, you have an AR-15 rifle with scope wrapped in some lacy Agent Provocateur underwear in your cupboard-"

"-Hey! That's supposed to be private!"

"Which? The rifle or the underwear-"

"-Both!"

"I told you I needed new underwear. But, er...not that underwear." Seeing Nagisa's blistering look, Karma commented in a lower voice, "I'm going to pay for that later, aren't I?"

"Hmph. You don't know the half of it. Just wait 'til we get to the Heath-"

"-get to the Heath? What's 'the Heath'?"

"Hampstead Heath. The place where we're gonna go to do our training. After our morning sugar rush, of course."

Now it was Karma's turn to look perplexed. "What do you mean by 'training'?" he asked suspiciously.

"I was watching you back in the Victoria Albert. Your reflexes have gotten a lot slower, and you couldn't lay a punch on that guy to save your life-"

"-hey!-"

"-you've gotten rusty and you need to get back up to speed, quick." A discomforting grin appeared on Nagisa's face.

"Why do I have the feeling I'm about to get my ass handed to me?" said Karma, shaking his head. "Is this payback for what I did all those years ago? And hey, listen, I'm sorry about all the sex change jokes-"

"-no, it's payback for going through my underwear," Nagisa replied dryly. The two of them came to a halt at the end of a long cue. Karma craned his head over the line of people; there was a tiny food cart with a flip up window emblazoned with the words _La Creperie de Hampstead_ on top. People leaving the front of the cue had paper cones filled with hot crepes in their hands.

"I really hope you enjoy the crepes, Akabane," said Nagisa sincerely. "'Cuz once we get started on the Heath, you're going to need all the energy you can get."

* * *

Stands of trees and rolling fields of golden wheat made up much of the Heath, undulating and swaying like ocean waves under the wispy breath of a cool spring breeze. The sunlight pouring through the branches overhead hit the ground in a smattering of gold coins, shimmering and deceptively luminous. In the distance fishermen could be seen lazing by a small duck pond, hats pulled over their eyes and their fishing poles mostly ignored. Out on the hiking trails dogs chased frisbees and bicycles whizzed by them, their high, cheerful bells ringing out across the water. Other than these small, inconsequential sounds, the Heath was mostly silent, it's lulling green and gold charms punctuated only by unobtrusive birdsong and shivering branches. Karma dutifully followed Nagisa down a shaded bike trail before veering off into a narrow clearing whose main centerpiece was a fallen tree that was almost as wide as Nagisa was tall. Nagisa jumped onto the trunk, his movements as agile as a cat, and beckoned for Karma to follow. After a moment's hesitation, Karma grabbed a limb and swung himself onto the fallen log, the suspicious look from before still on his face. "I still don't understand why we've come out in the middle of the woods," he grumbled.

"You don't think this place is beautiful?" asked Nagisa, his head cocked to the side. "I would have thought that any place good enough for John Keats would certainly be good enough for Karma Akabane."

"Who?"

"Keats. You know, the poet. You don't remember that from English class-"

"-I wasn't as fond of English as you. And that was five years ago-"

"-this Heath was what inspired him to write "Ode to a Nightingale" and a bunch of other poems-"

"-so this is about poetry-"

"-Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art-not in lone splendor hung aloft at night. And watching with eternal lids apart, like nature's patient sleeping Eremite-" Nagisa broke off, saying, "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"This has got to be the most erudite ass kicking ever."

"Who said anything about an ass kicking? And don't you like poetry?"

"My appreciation of English poetry is limited to a very few four line poems."

"Oh, like what?"

Karma stretched out his arms dramatically and recited loudly into the trees: "There once was a man from Nantucket, whose cock was so long he could suck it. He wiped off his chin, and said with a grin, if my ear was a cunt I could-"

"-okay, I think that's enough poetry for today." interrupted Nagisa, rolling his eyes.

"What can I say, the beauty of this place inspires me," snorted Karma.

"Okay, funny guy, here's a more interesting challenge for you-"

"-uh-oh. Here it comes-"

"You manage to knock me off this log and I'll pay for dinner tonight-"

"-just dinner?" asked Karma with obvious disappointment. "Can't we up the stakes a bit?"

"To what?" asked Nagisa. Karma waggled his eyebrows meaningfully. "Jeez, is your mind ever _not_ in the gutter?" groused Nagisa.

Karma grinned and Nagisa immediately thought of a shark. "What can I say, the god-like beauty before me inspires my dear poet's heart-"

"-you're so full of it. Okay, then, you're on," said Nagisa, smiling confidently.

"So let me get this straight: If I knock you off this log, then I get to pillage you in whatever way I see fit-"

"-if you actually knock me off this log, yes-"

"-and you really want me to come at you? No holds barred? Like, for real-"

"-yes, for real. Show me what you got, and don't hold back-"

"You're sure about this?" There was an odd note in Karma's voice that gave Nagisa pause, but he waved it aside. After all, he was well beyond Karma now when it came to fights. "Yes, I'm sure," said Nagisa, taking up a defensive stance. "I want you to really try-"

"-okay, then. Don't say you weren't warned." Karma feinted at Nagisa, who instantly flinched back. Karma's shoulders drooped. "Man, I don't know if I can do this. I mean, you're-" Karma was immediately forced to duck as Nagisa suddenly came at him with a roundhouse kick. He flailed backwards as Nagisa spun around and the heel of his hand connected with his chin, almost causing him to lose his balance. Nagisa didn't let up on him though, and he kept pressing his advantage forward until Karma was seriously running out of log. "You're fucking serious aren't you-" Karma blurted and ducked again as Nagisa almost landed another punch. Nagisa was surprised when Karma caught his wrist and yanked him forward.

"Well, this brings back memories," said Karma conversationally into Nagisa's face. "Of course, even though you've got the physical chops now, you've pretty much neglected the mental side of it."

"How so?" Nagisa wrenched himself free from Karma's grasp and was forced to duck a series of swift punches. Nagisa got another quick jab into Karma's mid section that forced the redhead back a step. Panting, Karma said coldly:

"All the physical armor in the world can't protect you from your own insecurities." Karma ducked again as Nagisa threw another kick in his direction. "You dress like a girl but deep down it bothers you because if you really accepted that part of yourself then that would mean your mother was right, and you can't stand that-" Nagisa's eyes widened at these words, and he was surprised when Karma managed to grab his wrist again. All the while he kept on talking:

"And you're also secretly worried that you really _are_ like your mother: a horrible, abusive bitch who made your father leave you when you were just a kid, and who made your life a living hell. And that's why you're still a virgin, and why you're afraid to let anyone get too close to you, because if they did, then they would see what a horrible, fucked up mess you are. And then they would leave you, just like your dad left your mom-" Nagisa pulled on Karma's arm, his ears reddening.

"Because no one could ever really love you, since the truth is you're actually a cold, ruthless murderer who hides his penchant for killing behind noble causes and you're desperately afraid-"

"Karma!"

"-that if anyone got to know you, the _real_ you-"

"Karma!"

"-then they would run for the hills from such a sick, twisted, irredeemable-"

"Karma-"

"-monster!" Nagisa twisted out of Karma's grasp, panting at each haunting accusation. Before he knew it, his legs were swept out from under him, and suddenly he was lying flat on his back, staring up at a canopy of green leaves dotted by pinholes of sunshine. Tears that had nothing to do with his fall stinged Nagisa's eyes. A small voice from up above said, "I'm sorry."

Nagisa, still lying on the ground, squeezed his eyes shut and said, "No, I'm sorry. I forgot...I forgot how cruel you could be. That verbally humiliating your opponent was your favorite method of fighting-"

"-Fighting isn't just about the physical, you know." A shadow fell across Nagisa's face and a comforting hand slid through his hair and over his ponytail. "I'm sorry. I know you said to come at you for real, but I'm...I'm sorry I did that. You know I didn't mean any of it, right?"

"It's okay," answered Nagisa faintly, even though a contrary voice in his head screamed, _No! It's not okay! Everything you just said about me is true and I hate you for saying it! I hate you for knowing it! And what's worse, I hate that I'm still so weakened by it that you can still get to me this way, even after all these years!_

"Nagisa, please look at me."

Nagisa kept his eyes closed and shook his head. The voice came again, softer this time:

"Nagisa, please…"

* * *

Karma had never regretted saying something so much in his entire life.

But he had been so swept up in the moment, so caught up in the whole challenge, that he just couldn't help himself. Winning had become the top priority. And so he'd reached for the one weapon he knew he could use to beat his opponent: He used his words. And sometimes those cut much deeper than knives. Karma knew this, just as he knew that Nagisa was vulnerable-had _always_ been vulnerable-to that sort of attack. And yet he'd done it anyway. It didn't matter that Nagisa had asked him to attack him for real. Karma shouldn't have followed through with it. But he had proceeded to verbally eviscerate Nagisa and now he was (metaphorically) bleeding on the ground.

Karma sat on the grass and gently scooted Nagisa's head onto his lap. When the blue haired boy finally opened his eyes, Karma was distressed to see the liquid sheen of tears there. _Tears that he put there._ The clearing was dead silent except for the melodic call of a cardinal high up in the trees. Karma stroked Nagisa's hair softly. Looking down into his eyes, he said quietly, "Will you forgive me?"

Silence.

Karma swallowed and said, "You know, being in love means you have to be okay with showing your flaws to another person. It means making yourself vulnerable to that person, even if you don't like it. And it also means that the other person has to be gracious enough to accept those flaws. In the end flaws don't matter, vulnerability doesn't matter-"

"But you don't have any flaws and you're not vulnerable to anything-"

"-that's not true-"

"-it is! You never let anything get to you, you're always so calm and collected-"

"-okay, then. So don't forgive me. Walk out of this clearing right now without ever looking back, then see how calm and collected I am. I tell you, it would shatter me into a million pieces-"

"-Karma, I don't-"

"-I love you, you know-"

Silence.

"I love that you're not like me, that you would never, ever say anything so cruel to another person. I love both your insecurities and your strengths in equal measure. I don't care that you're an assassin, because you have an innate talent for it and who am I to hold you back? I don't want to hold you back! If anything, I want to lift you up! I want to help you-"

"-Karma I-" The sheen in Nagisa's eyes grew brighter. The trill of a lone bird echoed through the trees.

"-I don't want to tear you down! And I'm very, very sorry I hurt you-"

 _Pain. Just like that. It sliced through him, quick as a skylark..._

"Karma?" There was a change in Nagisa's voice. Karma looked down at the other boy's face and saw fear: Fear in those shimmering blue eyes, and another color, one that was out of place, growing in steady, multiplying drops. Drops like bits of ink spilled from a pen well-

 _Red._


	10. Enemies and Adversaries

**Author's Note: Chapter warning for blood and violence. Also, reviews would be most welcome right now, as the author's ever fluctuating motivation could use some** **feeding (so please send cookies :)!**

* * *

Chapter 10:

Enemies and Adversaries

" _Darkling I listen; and, for many a time,_

 _I have been half in love with easeful Death,_

 _Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme_

 _To take into the air my quiet breath…"_

From "Ode to a Nightingale" by John Keats

There was the majestic sound of a cardinal calling through the trees…

Only-

There were no cardinals in the Heath. An abundance of other birds remained: wrens and skylarks and robins and, of course, Keat's famous nightingale. But not cardinals. Nagisa almost laughed. He should have been attending to his surroundings but instead he'd been attending to his own useless, childhood pain. He'd been careless. And now...now he was in trouble.

"Nagisa…" Blades of bright sunlight sliced through the tree branches above like daggers, embedding themselves like spikes of pure light into the shady ground. Nagisa's eyes widened as viscous drops of red fell across his face like raindrops; for a moment it seemed like the sky was bleeding. But no, it wasn't the sky; that's when he noticed that the drops were falling from the hand that Karma had been using to stroke his hair. Looking up, he saw a line of red, like that on a tube station map, flowing from the boy's arm, from shoulder to elbow to wrist, in a thin trail all the way down to his hand to finally fall, like so many errant tears, from his fingertips. Karma's eyes, bright amber like the swaying wheat fields of the Heath, were wide: with doubt, with surprise and-increasingly-with pain.

"Nagisa…" Karma held out his hand, wincing in pain, staring at the blood spattered limb as if it were an alien object. The blood from his shoulder was flowing faster now, increasing in volume. To his credit, Karma didn't topple over or clutch himself or react in any of the ways a typical person would when shot. He looked more surprised than anything. Nagisa was about to say Karma's name again when a voice interrupted him from the log above, saying:

"Aw, that shot was just from a measly .22. So don't look so scared; I barely put a scratch on him."

Nagisa was up and off the ground in an instant. Rage combined with adrenaline pulsed through his veins, redder than blood, as he grabbed the shooter by the ankle and dragged him bodily from his perch. "You guys feel free to step in any time now," the shooter said nervously into the air as Nagisa began to viciously pound his head into the side of the fallen log. The sound of half a dozen rifles being cocked simultaneously behind Nagisa's head wasn't even enough to make him stop. Finally, a woman's low voice said close to Nagisa's ear, "Alright, Angel, that's enough." Then in a louder voice, to the shooter: "What did I tell you, Andrew, about getting too close? Appearances, as I pointed out, can be very deceiving."

Nagisa slammed the shooter's forehead into the tree one last time, hard enough to make him see stars. The young man slumped to the ground, clutching his now bloodied nose. Nagisa turned slowly in the direction of the woman's voice. There were about eight armed assailants arranged around the clearing, all carrying heavy duty semi-automatics. Nagisa's eyes ticked coldly over each one before landing on the woman with the sleek black bobbed hairdo standing directly in front of him. With a shock, he realized he knew her. And seeing his look of recognition, the woman smiled in an unpleasant, reptilian manner. She said, with a heavy Russian accent:

"Hello again, Angel. How's the wound?"

The blood was pounding mercilessly in Nagisa's ears. It had been almost a year since Nagisa had last encountered this woman; it had been, of course, on one of his many assignments with Irina. It had all started one night out on a lonely road on the outskirts of Glasgow, from the inside of an unmarked lorry…

 _Rain drummed a persistent tattoo over the truck's metal roof, the rapport echoing like gunfire through the narrow cargo hold. In the darkened space of the trailer sat half a dozen teenage girls, shivering amongst crates of dried goods. Two of them, apparently sisters, whispered quietly to each other, their crisp white schoolgirl blouses glowing faintly in the dimness. The younger, barely thirteen, said in a plaintive whisper:_

" _I'm scared, Naomi. I want to go home."_

" _We're not going home, Ellie," answered her sister morosely. She couldn't have been more than three or four years older than the other girl. "Hell, it was barely any kind of home anyway. Mimi was only fostering us so she could get that monthly check. And then, as usual, when she found a better deal, well-"_

" _-I'm sorry, what did you just say about your foster mother?" interrupted another voice._

 _Naomi squinted into a blackened corner where the dark outline of another figure sat. "'Mother' is far too good a word for her," Naomi said bitterly. "She's nothing but a money grubbing bitch who'd sell out her own kin if it meant making an extra pound or two. Doubly so if you're_ not _her kin." A small pause, then, "What do you care anyway?"_

 _A match was struck and the dark suddenly became less so. Sitting in the corner was a pretty girl with unusual blue hair and a blouse similar to Naomi's and-unexpectedly-a warm, friendly smile. "I know a thing or two about bad mothers," said Nagisa to the other girl, his smile unwavering. "And what did you say your foster mom's name was?"_

 _Naomi narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but still she answered, "Mimi."_

" _And her last name?"_

" _Fairbanks. Why?" Nagisa made a mental note to check into the affairs of a Ms. Mimi Fairbanks from Glasgow later. "No reason," said Nagisa mysteriously as the match flared out and died. Naomi, unperturbed by the dark, said, "And why are you being all smiley? You do know what's going to happen to us, don't you?"_

 _Beside her, Ellie asked in a terrified squeak, "What's going to happen?"_

" _The_ Bratva _are going to take us to one of those horrid brothels over the border and-"_

" _-that's not going to happen-" Nagisa interjected._

" _-says who-"_

" _-me, for one-"_

" _-you? Ha! What's a shrimpy little girl like you gonna do?"_

 _No answer._

" _See. You're full of shit. You're not-" Naomi's words were cut off as the truck screeched to an abrupt halt, flinging most of the girls into packing crates or against one another. Nagisa tensed; the lorry had stopped too soon. Irina wouldn't have had a chance to intercept the truck yet. The girls cringed behind boxes of dried goods and exchanged worried glances with one another in the dark. All except for Nagisa, who sat coiled like a snake in his corner._

 _Over the_ rat-a-ta-tat _sound of pouring rain, a pair of voices could be heard arguing outside the truck. Suddenly there was the metallic, hawk like screech of a latch being pulled back and the doors were thrown open and a light shined inside. A woman's voice boomed through the confines of the truck:_

" _My intel says there is a stowaway in here and I'm here to-"_

" _-don't be ridiculous, Dominika! Look for yourself! There's no one here except for a bunch of harmless schoolgirls," said a male voice with a heavy Russian accent. The beam of an electric torch danced over the trailer's narrow space, briefly touching on each girl._

" _You think girls are harmless?" said the woman named Dominika menacingly. She sntached the torch away from the man. She stepped up onto the lip of the truck and swept the beam slowly over the objects inside, swinging the light back and forth like a prison floodlight. It lingered uncomfortably over each and every girl, causing each one to squint and look away. Nagisa copied their actions when the light fell on him, bowing his head until the light moved off and away. A second man who was standing somewhere out of sight said in a crisp English accent, "See, Mika. You satisfied now? Everything's going smooth-"_

" _-shut up, Andrew. And of course, everything's going smoothly. I'm not the moronic fuck-up my brother Dimitri was." There was a slight pause, then she said, coldly, "Andrew, give me your sidearm." In the darkness, Nagisa could see the woman's outstretched hand reaching out behind her. All Nagisa could see of her was her dark bob and the silver reflective buttons on her black trench coat; the buttons stared at him like a row of tarantula's eyes, winking at him in the darkness._

 _The man called Andrew said in a reluctant voice, "Mika I don't think-"_

" _-what you think doesn't matter," growled Dominika. "Your sidearm. Now." The gun was placed in Dominika's hand. Once again, the torch beam swept through the truck's cargo hold. Nagisa remained preternaturally still as he waited for the light to fall on him. The beam crossed the hold and struck him full in the face, forcing his hand up over his eyes. The beam lingered on him for a moment before shifting away, this time falling on the sisters Naomi and Ellie. From the open doors, Dominika called, "You there, little one. What is your name?"_

 _The answer came out in a stuttered squeak, "E-E-Ellie."_

" _And how old are you, Ellie?"_

" _I-I'm going to be thirteen in t-two weeks."_

 _Silver flashed in the dark as Dominika lifted her arm. "No, you're not." Before Dominika had even finished her sentence, Nagisa was up and out of his corner, barrelling into Ellie. The girl screamed as the shot rang out, the sound echoing loudly in the small space of the trailer. It was as if time had slowed down to a trickle as Nagisa pushed the girl out of the way; his pulse beating out the seconds of the clock at an agonizingly slow pace as he waited for the inevitable. He was certainly fast enough to save the girl, but he knew he wasn't fast enough to clear that bullet. The shot was going to connect. There was no way around it. The scene played out in slow-mo in Nagisa's head as he fell awkwardly into a packing crate. A line of pain ripped through his side, following the path of the bullet as it entered and exited through his flesh like a passing freight train, leaving nothing but a trail of throbbing agony in its wake. Nagisa gritted his teeth as he slumped into the crate, his chest heaving as he fought off the pain that was being telegraphed to every outpost and nerve in his body._

" _Got you," whispered Dominika in a smug voice. The torch beam hit Nagisa full in the face. "It is you, isn't it?" said Dominika conversationally. "You're the one who killed Dimitri in Berlin. I saw the hair and I suspected as much, but I wasn't sure. But it's true what they say, you do have a bleeding heart, a soft spot." A small pause. "That's a fatal flaw for an assassin, you know." There was a slight click as the hammer was thumbed back on the gun. That's when Naomi threw herself across Nagisa, her arms spread out. "No! Don't shoot her!" she yelled._

" _Mika, there is a convoy headed our way-"_

" _-get out of the way, girl-"_

" _-Mika, we have to go, they're stopping-"_

" _-I'm not done-"_

" _-I'm not going to let you shoot her-"_

" _-Mika-"_

" _-I said, move! You stupid bitch-"_

 _Voices argued over each other, increasing in volume. Out of nowhere a barrage of bullets sprayed across the side of the truck, hitting the metal like a loud snare drum, and the girls all screamed and dove for cover. One of the bullets hit the driver outside, and he fell, screaming in agony into the middle of the road. The man named Andrew began to drag Dominika away from the back of the truck, even as she hit him and cursed at him in fast Russian. More gunfire rang out, but the sounds became a distant echo as Nagisa felt himself starting to fade out. A hand shook his shoulder. "Hey," said Naomi. "Hey, don't pass out now! I think we're being rescued!" Dark, everything was too dark. Especially the pool that was forming under Nagisa, spreading like wet paint beneath the crate. Much too dark._

" _Nagisa!" Irina's voice called out from the distance. "Nagisa!"_

 _The sound of his named being said over and over again was the last thing Nagisa heard before finally succumbing to the welcoming unconsciousness of the dark…_

Nagisa had never been wounded on assignment before then. Of course, it was to be expected in his line of work. But that still didn't make it any less painful. The small scar on his left side throbbed at the muscle memory of it, at the night this woman had almost ended his life.

"Hello, Dominika," Nagisa said evenly. "I see you found me again."

Dominika smiled her cold, unpleasant smile. "Yes. But it took me quite a while. You're a hard one to pin down. It's very unusual for you to stay in one place for any length of time. I would almost say we got lucky, if it wasn't for the fact that I had help."

Nagisa arched an eyebrow. "You had help?"

The cold smile didn't waver. "Yes, help. You see, there is someone else here who is even more obsessed with your movements than I am." Dominika turned toward the trees. "Akira? You can come out now. We've got him."

Nagisa's heart started trip hammering in his chest. _No, it couldn't be. The military sent him off to a mental institution years ago..._ And just like that, Nagisa felt like he was fifteen years old again. And just like at fifteen, he felt that insecure, and that scared.

From the tree line emerged Akira Takaoka, his face pockmarked with pale, shiny scars. The last time Nagisa had laid eyes on him, the man had gone completely insane, had become nothing more than the cracked shell of a broken man. But not this time. This time, he looked different. He looked calm. He looked thoughtful. He looked...normal. But then he smiled, and with it went any sense of normalcy. No, it was far, far worse, because there was a cold, vast emptiness, a complete lack of humanity there that Nagisa didn't remember ever seeing in him before. That, and a hint of palpable expectation. A shiver went down Nagisa's spine as Takaoka's eyes raked him from head to foot. In a raspy voice, he said, almost cheerfully:

"Well, hello again, Nagisa. It's so very, very nice to see you…"


	11. Echoes in Eternity

**Author's Note: I wrote two versions of this chapter, and after going back and rereading my own story (something I usually avoid doing until well after the fact), I've decided to repost this chapter using version two. Probably no one will notice, but I just wanted to throw that out there...**

* * *

Chapter 11:

Echoes in Eternity

 _It was so long ago. On an island so very far away…_

 _He remembered it like it was yesterday, though. The hotel, the sickness, Takaoka. So much of it at the time had seemed like one grand adventure. Just another violence filled romp in Karma's violence filled world. All of it an exciting rush, except for that last bit. The bit with Nagisa and Takaoka on the roof._

 _It had been hard to watch, that. Almost physically painful for Karma. It had taken everything Karma had not to go up there, as he watched Takaoka land punch after punch on his smaller, weaker classmate. Or at least, at the time, he'd thought him smaller and weaker. Only Terasaka's repeated protests had kept him in place. But it had been so hard. So hard not to step in, at a time when Nagisa had so clearly needed him. Even then, the pull toward Nagisa had been strong. The immutable instinct to step up and protect that one whom he held above all others was undeniable (if, at the time, unacknowledged)._

 _Memories jumbled and overlapped in his mind. The scene shifted: It was no longer the hotel roof, but the clearing in Hampstead Heath. Everything was sunlight and birdsong and trees towering like wooden pillars into the sky. That, and his blood, dripping steadily like water from a leaky faucet from his shoulder to the ground. Nagisa was standing in front of him; his lips were moving but he couldn't hear what he saying. Voices surrounded them and the clearing was spinning, but one sentence stood out amongst the rest:_

 _Akira, you can come out now…_

 _No, no, no, no, no, no! The word repeated inside Karma's head as he watched the guy who shot him calmly walk up behind Nagisa and hit him in the back of his head with the butt of his gun. The blue haired boy dropped like a marionette that had its strings cut to the forest floor. No, no, no, no, no, no! Karma thought. You don't know what you're doing; you don't know what he's really like. You've let out a tyrant, a monster! Karma tried to protest, but nothing came out. The world pinwheeled and went sideways and suddenly everything went surprisingly, achingly black…_

Karma woke with a gasp. The first thing he noticed was the smell: alcohol. Licking his lips, he realized he could taste it, too-the bitter burn of it on his tongue. Vodka. An expensive brand, the name started with an 'S.' He couldn't quite remember it because his brain was in a fog. The smell of it was under his nose, in his hair, on his clothes. That's when he realized it had been poured over him, and that was what had woken him up.

"Finally awake, Ginger?"

Karma scraped damp hair out of his eyes and groggily pushed himself into a seated position. A sharp stab of pain shot through his left shoulder at the movement, and Karma forced himself not to curse or cry out. That's when he remembered something else: he'd been shot. Not fatally, though, as he was still here and still basically in one piece.

But how long he would continue to be in one piece, he couldn't readily say…

Karma took in his surroundings with bleary eyes: he was sitting on a dark couch with velour cushions in the middle of a small, windowless sitting room in...he didn't know where. And sitting across from him, in a wing back chair with her legs crossed, was the Russian woman from the clearing. _Hello, Dominika. I see you found me again._ In her hand was a half empty bottle of vodka. She was watching Karma intently, her chin propped up on one delicate, manicured hand. Behind her chair, waiting by her side like a faithful retriever, was the shooter who had felled Nagisa, his bloodied nose now covered with bandages. Karma pointedly ignored their presence as he twisted around in his seat, looking over the contents of the room. Not seeing what he was looking for, Karma asked, "Where's Nagisa?"

The answer was instantaneous. "With Takaoka. Where else?"

Karma didn't like that answer, not one bit. He refused to let it show, though. He said, almost conversationally, "If Nagisa is the one you're after, then why am I here?"

The woman smiled, but the smile didn't come anywhere close to reaching her eyes. "Because I like your style, Ginger," she said simply.

"Come again?"

"I was watching you out there in the woods. And you-you fight dirty." Dominika paused thoughtfully. "I like that. And that little speech you gave to our darling Angel out there-well, that was a thing of priceless beauty."

Karma couldn't keep the slightly startled look off his face. It made his ears burn to think that anyone else had overheard the things he had said to Nagisa during their mock fight. _No one could ever really love you, since the truth is you're actually a ruthless murderer who hides his penchant for killing behind noble causes..._ Karma gritted his teeth and said, "What I said out there wasn't-"

"-wasn't what?" interrupted Dominika. "The truth? Oh, come on now-you and I both know that isn't the case." Grinning a sphinx like smile, Dominika lifted the bottle and took a decidedly unladylike swig from it. "You see, it takes a mental sadist to know a mental sadist."

"Precisely. Which is why I know the only reason we're even having this conversation is just so you can have the sick pleasure of fucking with me."

The cat like smile twitched upward a bit. _Bingo._ "Is it?" asked Dominika innocently. "You don't think that maybe I want to recruit you? I thought after that virulent little speech of yours out in the woods that maybe you really didn't much care for our dear sweet Angel-"

"-stop calling him that-"

"-you're right, I should stop. Because the words 'dear' and 'sweet' and 'angel' have nothing to do with Nagisa Shiota. Especially since you and I both know he's a...how did you put it? A 'sick twisted irredeemable monster'?"

"That's not true; I don't believe that about him," gritted Karma, even as the more logical voice inside him coached: _Don't let her get to you. She wants to see you flustered. She's goading you on purpose._ But even with this knowledge Karma couldn't help himself. He was well aware of Nagisa's weaknesses, just as he was well aware of his own. And he had a nasty feeling that Dominika knew what his weakness was, too. It was all tied up with Nagisa, and his irrepressible need to defend those he knew needed defending. He wanted so much to protect Nagisa. And the sad part was, he was helpless to do so in his current situation.

Dominika arched a laser thin eyebrow. "So you actually care for him then? Such words you use to address someone you love; I'd be interested to see how you would speak to an enemy-"

"-keep talking and you'll find out-"

"-tch! Don't get upset! There was really nothing you could have done to help Shiota; his course was set from the moment I sent Viktor down to London to meet with you-"

"-what do you mean-"

""-I mean, I managed to kill two birds with one stone with that little arrangement. Your darling Angel got rid of Viktor for me-who, by the way, had just recently skimmed three million pounds off my operation. And it also drew Shiota out in the open, just long enough for us to corner him. Now neither of them will ever have the chance to interfere in my business ever again. It's a win/win for me..."

Karma felt the mercury of his anger rise. "And what about Takaoka?"

Dominika shrugged insouciantly. "Takaoka? Oh, he was very, very eager to assist with Shiota's capture. The poor, delusional man. He thinks he's using me as a means to an end to get to Shiota, when in actuality, it's quite the other way around. Otherwise, I would have never released him from that mental institution he was in-"

"-you _let_ him out?" Karma's heart thudded in his chest.

The evil smile was back on Dominika's face. "Of course, I did," Dominka answered sweetly. "Let's just say I was moved by Takaoka's sorrowful tale of loss. Namely, the loss of his self-respect, his pride, his freedom, and even his mind-all taken away by the actions of Nagisa Shiota. You see, I can be a very sympathetic person when the need suits me. And I very much understand Takaoka's motivation. Revenge is a noble goal, and one I understand completely."

"But why would you let an insane person out?" Karma blurted.

"Takaoka's been a very good boy about taking his medication these last few years. His doctors all agree he's made great strides in that area. Of course, that doesn't mean he isn't still utterly obsessed with getting revenge on Shiota. Which was very handy for me. In fact, it was Takaoka's idea to contact your stock trader parents and ask them to send you here as their representative; you see, we had a lot of money to invest overseas and it was the perfect front. He thought that adding one of Shiota's beloved former classmates to the mix would probably compromise him-"

"-he did what-"

"-and that little maneuver worked out even better than I expected, as your cute little high school reunion kept Shiota in town for much longer than normal; otherwise he would have moved on to his next target," Dominika said almost gleefully. "Takaoka's ideas were an insightful contribution to my plan, so I thought, why not let the poor man have his just reward? And why not, in the meantime, replace those meds of his with some placebos just to see what happens? Why not-"

"-you're don't give a crap about Takaoka. You're just using him to make Nagisa suffer-" Karma said darkly.

The smile twitched up a bit. "Yey, so what? So what if I want him to suffer?" Dominika admitted flatly. "He deserves it, and anyway, there's nothing you can do about it. As for myself, I generally get what I want. So, I'm going to let Takaoka have fun with his new toy, and when he finally breaks it, I'll simply throw the pieces into the Thames as a warning to Irina Jelavic and her ilk to stay the fuck away from me and my operation."

Karma swallowed hard and looked away from Dominika's smug, triumphant face. _I'm so sorry, Nagisa. I inadvertently kept you in London where this sick, murderous bitch could hunt you down and throw you like a prize bone to the craziest of her crazy dogs. This whole situation is basically my fault. I became a distraction and a weakness for you and I didn't even realize it. But I swear, if I manage to get out of this room alive, I'll make it up to you. I'll do what I should have done those five years ago, what all of our classmates and Koro-sensei urged you not to do that day…_

"You've gone all quiet, Ginger. I'm sorry, has what I said upset you?"

Karma lifted his head. He couldn't keep the naked fury from showing in his eyes. "That was the whole point of this talk, right? To upset me? To be a captive audience so you could sit and gloat over the pain you're causing Nagisa?"

Dominika shrugged again. "Hey, what can I say, I like to share my happy moments with others, it makes me even happier-"

"-I'm going to kill you," Karma said under his breath.

Dominika's eyebrow shot up. "Are you? Are you really? Even though you're trapped in this room, alone, with no weapon, and you've been injured?" Dominika laughed musically and took another hearty swig from the vodka bottle. "You really are quite amusing, Ginger-"

"-I doubt you'll be laughing when I'm squeezing the life out of that pretty throat of yours-"

"-Hmm. Listen to that. Maybe I was wrong about you; maybe you and Shiota were meant for each other after all. You have that same killer instinct, hidden away in such a pretty, unassuming package." Dominika paused. "It's really too bad, Ginger, because I think, in a different life, under different circumstances, you and I could have been friends-"

"-then you're as delusional as Takaoka-"

Dominika shook her head and slowly placed the bottle on a small side table with a heavy _thunk!_ She looked at Karma with an expression that, under the right light, could have almost been interpreted as regret. "It really is too bad, Ginger," she said softly. Without further words, Dominika turned her head slightly and held up her hand, her only acknowledgement to the man who had been standing silently and patiently behind her this whole time. Understanding her wordless intent, Andrew drew a 9 mm from his side holster and placed it gently in her hands. The smile returned to Dominika's face as she turned back to face Karma. "But, as you so rightly guessed, my real intent is to make Shiota suffer. So I'm thinking-and please correct me if I'm wrong-that the best way to drive the proverbial dagger straight into Shiota's heart..." And here she pointed the gun at Karma at point blank range and said:

"...is to put a bullet straight through yours."


	12. The Blue Room

**Author's Note: Chapter warning for violence and prolonged torture. Please read at your own discretion.**

* * *

Chapter 12:

The Blue Room

He was like a bee, flying inside a honeycomb. The diamond like pattern twisted and turned and floated above him, around him, the pattern's edges folding out and over and into itself, doubling, tripling, until it was like being trapped inside a diamond. So many facets, shimmering and twinkling under the wavering light. The diamond sparkled and shimmered in a glassy haze, the edges of it blurring, fading. _No!_ he thought. _I can't stay inside this honeycomb forever! I have to get out! I have to get to..._ He tried so hard to remember, to focus. _Focus!_ his mind screamed at him. And so slowly, so very, very slowly, the facets started to coalesce, their edges settling, becoming hard, becoming very much like a diamond. The lines stopped blurring and he found he could see the pattern clearly, if he squinted: a honeycomb grid hanging above his head, on a rice paper canopy lit by a large ornate light fixture. The grid shimmied and swayed and finally came to a relative standstill. Nagisa squeezed his eyes shut. The nausea came and went with his dancing vision; as long as the world stood still, he could concentrate and fight off the urge to vomit. _Where am I?_ he thought to himself. _What happened to me?_

Then, as if the world had heard his thoughts, it said: "I suppose you're wondering where you are?"

 _That voice! He knew that voice! But it was from such a long time ago…_ "The place I'm in...it's finally stopped spinning," Nagisa rasped drunkenly.

"You're inside a chateau just outside of London. Out in the country." A small pause. "Don't you remember what happened?"

Nagisa closed his eyes and in his mind he saw a bright light shining overhead, haloing a head of fiery red hair. _Karma. I was sitting in a clearing with Karma. And then suddenly-_ Nagisa's eyes flew open. "Karma! Where's Karma? He's been hurt-"

"How sweet," said the familiar sounding voice. "That even in your current situation, your only concern is for your doomed classmate."

"What? Classmate? I haven't been in school for years," observed Nagisa. A dark revelation suddenly smacked up against the wall of Nagisa's consciousness. _Wait! That voice! I know it! It lives on in my nightmares, in my memories…_

A face suddenly appeared in Nagisa's line of vision. A face crosshatched with shiny crescent shaped scars and a sick, damaged grin. _No, it can't be! I defeated you long ago! They sent you away! They said-_

"It's true, you may not be in school anymore," said Takaoka. "But for me, I've thought of nothing but that time, _that day_ , for the past five years."

"You! Stay away from me!" Nagisa hissed in a trembling voice. He tried to move back and away from Takaoka's twisted grinning face, but found that he couldn't. And not just because he'd been sedated with some kind of drug that was screwing with his vision and his ability to think clearly, but because his wrists had been tied with some kind of bungee cord like restraints to the headboard of the bed he was lying on. It didn't matter that his limbs could barely respond to his mind's commands to move, because he couldn't go anywhere anyway. He was trapped. Completely and utterly trapped.

"What have you done to me?" Nagisa said weakly, trying desperately to move his legs. Unfortunately, those had been restrained as well, and Nagisa was just starting to appreciate the vulnerable position his was in: Tied up, spread eagle, in the middle of a large four poster bed. He was like a butterfly pinned to a mat. That image made him panic even more. Because Takaoka was just the sort of person who enjoyed tearing the wings off of butterflies…

"I gave you a muscle relaxant," Takaoka admitted, answering his question. "I couldn't take any chances. Not with you. You're too dangerous. I've learned that lesson twice now." Takaoka reached out and snagged Nagisa's chin with his hand, forcing the blue haired boy's gaze to meet his own deranged stare. "You have no idea how I've longed for this day," he whispered into Nagisa's panicked face, his words trembling with an emotion Nagisa couldn't identify. His eyes glittered with unrestrained malice. "Dominika Ivanov has been the answer to all my prayers, all my wishes-"

"Dominika?" said Nagisa, his mind turning to another, darker thought. "Where is Dominika? Is she with-"

"-that red haired classmate of yours? The tall, good looking one? Of course she is. While she was generous enough to let me have you all to myself, she did want her own share of the fun. You see, Dominika is a very playful-and very sadistic-little kitty; she needs her own mice to play with."

Nagisa pulled uselessly against the restraints, his heart trip hammering in his chest. But not for himself. _Karma! No! Not Karma!_ "You can't leave him with her, she'll-"

"-she'll what?" Takaoka interrupted. "Kill him? Probably." The hand holding Nagisa's chin crept up his face to almost lovingly smooth the hair back from his eyes. Nagisa twisted his head away from the man's unwanted touch, as Takaoka crooned over him in a low, threatening voice, "At least she'll probably make his death quick, which is more than what you'll get. No. Not for you, Nagisa Shiota. Your death will neither be quick nor clean." Takaoka's large, lumbering shadow withdrew, and Nagisa felt himself exhale a shaky breath. The unexpected sound of metal scraping against metal jerked Nagisa's head to the side like a fishing line, and Nagisa, whose vision was almost back to normal now, quickly took inventory of the room's contents: the bed, the blue walls, a large oak wardrobe, a matching dresser, a mirror, a desk, a chair, the lowered blinds and black out curtains, and a small bedside table. It was this last that drew Nagisa's attention, and it was over this particular piece of furniture that Takaoka stood. For on top of the tiny table was a knife block, the kind you would find in your average kitchen, filled with an assortment of various sized knives, their presence ridiculously out of place in the small, intimate bedroom. Nagisa's pulse started to race as his eyes latched onto the knife set. Takaoka had already selected a large butcher's knife from the block, its blade winking maniacally under the room's gold covered light fixture. Takaoka smiled slowly, sadistically, as he watched Nagisa's eyes widen at the blade-the look of fear on the boy's face was like food for his twisted soul, like an aphrodisiac more powerful than any other. Without taking his eyes from Nagisa's, Takaoka gently replaced the knife and instead he picked up a grilling skewer he had laid across the table. Seemingly happy with this decision, he slowly made his way back over to the bed, his dilating pupils and throbbing jugular vein betraying his barely restrained excitement. Nagisa went rigidly, helplessly still as Takaoka said to him in an insidious whisper:

"Let's get started, shall we?"

* * *

Karma wished he could take it all back. All those things he'd said to Nagisa out in the clearing. _What an ending,_ thought Karma. _And Nagisa never said he forgave me for it; I'm going to die with him hating me. What a horrible thought…_

The gun was less than three meters from his face. He watched with a detached air as Dominika lifted it, aiming at him point blank.

 _I'm so sorry, Nagisa._ thought Karma morosely. _I'm sorry we didn't have more time together. You don't know how happy you made me these last few days. It was so perfect, the two of us together. I was so close to having it all. So, so close..._

Dominika grinned maliciously as she prattled on. Only Karma had stopped listening. He was busy with his own thoughts, which boiled down to one thing:

 _I love you, Nagisa…_

Karma watched resignedly as Dominika pulled the trigger. He heard the tell-tale click and then…

...nothing.

Karma's eyes widened slightly. He had braced himself for the impact and then...nothing happened. Even Dominika seemed perplexed. She was staring at the barrel of the gun in confusion. Grimacing, she lifted the 9 mm again and pulled the trigger. Again there was a hollow click and-

Karma practically leapt off the couch, attacking Dominika head on. He went for the gun, throwing his full weight at the woman, the action knocking over the chair she was sitting in and spilling them both onto the floor. Karma's shoulder cried out in a litany of pain as it hit the hardwood flooring but he ignored it. Whimsical fate had seen fit to release him from impending death and he would be damned if he let this chance go to waste! So he fought hard. It wasn't too difficult; deprived of a working weapon, Dominika was no match for Karma in all of his burning, blinding fury. Karma wrenched the gun from her smaller hands and he slammed her head into the back of her wooden chair. Once. Twice. She was wailing for Andrew, her high screams reverberating off the windowless walls. Speaking of which...

Karma rolled strategically onto his back, aiming the gun directly at the Englishman, who was leaning insouciantly against the back wall. He hadn't moved at all from his earlier position. Karma quirked a questioning eyebrow at him, but then he noticed Dominika was trying to get up again. With one last enraged cry, Karma turned and slammed her forehead into the hardwood floor. She slumped lifelessly, wordlessly, to the ground. Gulping for air, his chest heaving and his whole left side feeling like it was on fire, Karma crawled up onto his knees. He was surprised when he was offered a hand up by Andrew, who had finally seen fit to move from his spectator's position by the wall. In return, Karma aimed his gun at him. Andrew simply shook his head and said, in his clipped accent, "You can stop waving that thing around. The clip is empty. I know, because I'm the one who emptied it." Karma regarded him warily, refusing to lower his weapon, until he said:

"It's okay. My name's Andrew Strickland, and I actually work for MI-6."

* * *

 _Don'tscreamdon'tscreamdon'tscreamdon'tscream…_

It was impossible, though. As Takaoka proceeded to drive the metal skewer straight up into the sole of his right foot, Nagisa screamed up at the honeycomb canopy, his back arching off the bed, his whole body straining helplessly to get away. But there was no getting away. He was trapped. Takaoka was gripping his ankle with one hand as the other plunged cold hard metal into the soft underside of his foot, the sharpened point scraping sensitive nerves and delicate bone along the way as he shoved the tortuous instrument straight up into his leg, burying it to the hilt. Each delicate twist and turn of the skewer sent shockwaves of intense pain all throughout Nagisa's body, burning and stinging his nerve endings like bolts of electricity. It seemed impossible that such a small area could hold such potential for unlimited pain, but it seemed Takaoka knew what he was doing. Every little move and vibration from the skewer struck tiny, unseen nerves, and with concentrated effort, Nagisa tried not to move, as even the smallest twitch was cause for complete and utter agony. Nagisa panted, breathing through the pain, as he lay prone in the corded spider's web he was trapped in. His arms ached where he had been unconsciously straining against his bonds, and threads of sweat covered his forehead, snaking down and spilling across the coverlet. Tears threatened to make an appearance as well, but he valiantly held those back, because he'd be damned if let Takaoka have the satisfaction of breaking him so soon. He would not-could not-let the man see him cry.

"Such a scream," remarked Takaoka. "You actually have a lovely voice, you know." Takaoka softly caressed his instep. "Like an angel. I think I would like to hear more of it-"

Another scream was ripped from Nagisa's throat as Takaoka grabbed the hooked end of the skewer and began manipulating it back and forth, slicing through delicate nerves endings and soft flesh. The headboard creaked in accompaniment to Nagisa's cries as he slammed his head back, gritting out, "God!"

"Don't pray to God, Nagisa. There is no God. And even if there were, he wouldn't spare a thought for an obscene monster like you." Nagisa heard footsteps crossing the floor. A shadow fell over his face. Nagisa squeezed his eyes shut and panted against the pain, gulping down air. He felt a hand on his neck and a slight whimper slipped from his throat as Takaoka grasped his chin again.

"You know, that saccharine smile of yours has haunted my dreams, my nightmares, every day for the last five years." Takaoka leaned down so close that Nagisa could feel the other man's breath on his face, dusting over his nose, his cheeks. "Maybe I should cut if off," he whispered. "I could slice you from ear to ear, and purge the horrible image from my mind. They could call you the Blue Dahlia." Nagisa opened his eyes and looked his tormentor directly in the face. Their noses were mere inches apart. Then Nagisa said calmly:

"When I get free of this, it won't be the stun gun for you, Takaoka. This time, it'll be the knife."

Doubt momentarily flickered across Takaoka's face. He drew back from Nagisa, staring down at him like he was a poisonous snake that he had almost accidently stepped on. Then he seemed to remember himself and he began laughing, his shoulders shaking with it. "So fearless, Nagisa! Even more so now than when I first saw you. I have to admit, you're a credit to your profession. You won't break easily, and I like that. It pleases me." Takaoka gave one last chuckle before he went back to the small bedside table. His hands hovered over the objects there, his eyes bright and shining like a child who was being allowed to choose a brand new toy. His fingers caressed the handles of various knives. He reached down and picked up a metal cork screw. He held it up, examining it, but ultimately decided against it. He put the screw down. His hand went back to the knife block. He chose a large butcher's knife, sliding it slowly from its wooden sheath, and Nagisa watched in a cold sweat as Takaoka paused to stare at his own reflection in the blade. Smiling to himself, Takaoka slowly approached the bed. Nagisa's heart began hammering against his ribs like something that wanted out. The knife blade flashed brightly, ominously, as Takaoka said:

"Come on, Nagisa. Let's hear that angel's voice of yours one more time…"


	13. A Gathering Storm

**Author's Note: Chapter warning for violence and prolonged torture. Please read at your own discretion.**

* * *

Chapter 13:

A Gathering Storm

"You...you work for MI-6?" Karma repeated dumbly, finally accepting the other man's hand.

Andrew pulled Karma to his feet. "Yes. I've been working undercover in Dominika's operation for the past several months," admitted Andrew. His face fell a bit as he added, "Of course, it might all be for nothing, after today. But I owed Karasuma a favor and-"

"-Karasuma?"

"-Yes. He knows you're here. I've contacted him. He's en route now."

Relief flooded Karma's limbs. "Thank God for that. How long-"

"-he's about an hour out."

Karma's own face fell at that information. _An hour?_ he thought. _No, that's far too long! I can't wait an hour! Nagisa needs me now!_

Seeing Karma's sudden crestfallen look, Andrew ventured, "Oh, I'm sorry, did I say something wrong? And I'm, uh, sorry for shooting you earlier." Andrew gestured sheepishly at Karma's bloodied shoulder. "I tried to make it as much of a flesh wound as I possibly could, but I had to make it look convincing, you see."

Karma barely heard Andrew's apology. His mind was on Nagisa, and whatever horrible thing Takaoka had planned for him. Right now, nothing else mattered to him except rescuing the other boy. Karma turned and grabbed Andrew's shoulder, pointing a finger in his face. "Listen to me. I have to get to Nagisa. Can you tell me where they've taken him in this...whatever the hell this place is supposed to be?"

Andrew's expression turned dark. "Takaoka has him in one of the smaller bedrooms downstairs on the first floor. The very last room on the left, I think. But there's about four of Dominika's men stationed down there, all of them armed." Andrew paused long enough to draw the missing gun clip from his pocket. He held it out to Karma. "Here, you'll need this if you plan on trying to find him."

Karma's eyebrow shot up. "You're not coming with me?"

"Ah...no. Actually, I was hoping you'd do me a favor and knock me out. I'd really like to try and salvage my cover here, if at all possible." Andrew nervously chewed the inside of his cheek as his eyes pleaded with Karma for help. As an afterthought, he added, "I'm sure you'll do alright. Karasuma seemed to think-" And here Andrew abruptly broke off.

Karma frowned at him. "Karasuma thought what?"

"Well, he gave me the impression that you'd be able to handle yourself," said Andrew, his mouth turned up in a slight smirk. And that's when Karma understood. _Karasuma still thinks of me the way I used to be, back in E class. He still sees me as an assassin._ Steeling himself, Karma looked at Andrew and said, "It's fine. I can do it." Then Karma's lips quirked upward in a sadistic grin and he said, "And since you're the one who shot me, I'll gladly repay you the favor by doing this-" Karma's arm shot up and he slammed the butt of the 9 mm into Andrew's head, watching emotionlessly as the Englishman dropped to the ground in a graceless heap next to Dominika.

Karma pushed the ammo clip in place and checked the safety latch, tucking the gun into the waistband of his pants. _Okay, Andrew says there are four of them on the bottom floor. I need a way to get through them. And maybe if I was Nagisa, four wouldn't be too many. But I'm not Nagisa, so what should I do?_ Looking around the room, Karma's eyes landed on the half full bottle of vodka that Dominika had left on the end table. His eyes narrowing in thought, he picked up the bottle, then he began looking around for the kind of fireplace that always seemed to be present inside the sitting rooms on all of these vast British estates. Finding what he wanted, he took both the gun and the bottle of booze and he quietly left the room. He thought to himself as he stalked down the hall, his face set in a hardened glare:

 _Don't you dare die on me, Nagisa! I will never forgive you if you do. I am coming for you, and I will cut down anyone who tries to get in my way…_

* * *

At the last minute, Takaoka decided against the knife. Instead, he went back for the corkscrew.

Nagisa's eyes helplessly tracked his every movement. Even though he knew it only made things worse. Even though he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to prevent Takaoka's actions. He couldn't help himself; he just couldn't stop watching. Takaoka carefully replaced the butcher's knife and he took up the corkscrew. He made his way back over to the foot of the bed. Nagisa thought for a moment that he was going to take off his other shoe and cram the corkscrew inside his left foot; but no, Takaoka didn't actually touch his shoe. Takaoka's hand encircled his left ankle, his hand sliding intimately up the inside of his calf. Nagisa squirmed, his lips involuntarily quivering in disgust at the other man's invasive touch. Nagisa turned his face up to stare at the diamond patterned canopy, his heart racing, as Takaoka's hand grew bolder, went higher. "What are you doing?" Nagisa stammered out as Takaoka paused at Nagisa's knee, gently lifting it from the bed. Nagisa's whole body was trembling in trepidation, and even though he knew he shouldn't look at what Takaoka was doing, he did it anyway. He looked down, and the expression on Takaoka's face was one of blissful, morbid anticipation as he stared straight back at Nagisa with a calculated, twitching grin. "What am I doing, you ask?" he repeated in a low voice that audibly quaked with excitement. "Why, just this-"

Nagisa shrieked as Takaoka jammed the corkscrew up into the soft underside of his left knee. The blue haired boy wailed in unabashed agony as Takaoka twisted the device, tearing through delicate skin and flesh. Tears stung Nagisa's eyes as his back arched, his arms and legs pulling violently against his restraints, the inherent futility of his actions unable to override the animal instinct to get free, to get away. "S-stop!" Nagisa hissed in a high, trembling voice laced with pain.

"Ah! So we're at the begging stage now, are we?" asked Takaoka. His hand left the corkscrew, but he still didn't release Nagisa's knee. "C'mon, Nagisa. Do it. Go ahead, beg me to stop. Beg!"

"Go to hell!" Nagisa rasped as his head rolled back and forth against the coverlet. Both his legs were telegraphing messages of unrelenting pain up to the rest of his body. The skewer was still stuck in his right foot. At this rate, Nagisa wasn't sure if he'd be able to walk, undamaged, ever again. "I hate you," Nagisa whispered in a small voice. "I should have killed you that day. You're a monster..."

"It takes a monster to know a monster," remarked Takaoka. The corkscrew was given another violent twist and Nagisa howled, his nerves singing an unending song of _pain, pain, pain_. His whole world was pain, his entire body was on fire with it. Nagisa's vision wavered and blurred as unshed tears cast a filmy, shimmery veil over his eyes. It was like looking through a waterfall.

"Still won't beg, will you?" observed Takaoka from somewhere on Nagisa's left. "See, you're not at that point yet. The point of no return. Even now, you still believe you're going to get out of this, that you're not going to die. Well, I'll tell you this: you're wrong. You _are_ going to die. I'm going to make sure of that. But before you do, I'm going to ring such screams of pain, such tears of utter humiliation from you, that you'll beg me to end it before I'm through. This, I guarantee you." Nagisa felt hot breath brush across his face. A hand swept over his sweat soaked bangs. Nagisa didn't have the will, the energy, to move away or protest. He opened his eyes and stared blankly, lethargically, at Takaoka's glittery, hate filled eyes, eyes that locked onto his with an obsessive, possessive stare that sent shivers of cold down Nagisa's aching spine. Takaoka turned away and said to the wall in a quivery voice:

"The Blue Angel. That's what the _Bratva_ call you. Dominika tells me that you dress as a girl, to go and do your dirty work. Unsurprising, for an abomination like you." Footsteps paced back and forth by the bed. Nagisa refused to look, refused to give him the satisfaction of looking, as Takaoka continued his rant, "So tell me, _Der Blaue Engel,_ how many men have you lured, unsuspecting, to their death? How many men have you snared in the web of lies that is your smile?" Footsteps hastened across the floor and a hand grabbed Nagisa by the throat. Nagisa's eyes went wide with fear as Takaoka leaned across him and yelled into his face, "HOW MANY?!"

Nagisa shook his head, trying to dislodge Takaoka's grip on his neck. He refused to answer his question. The number was in the double digits now, long forgotten. It didn't matter though. _It doesn't matter,_ thought Nagisa. _Because I'm going to die here, as recompense for it all. I'm never going to get out of this room. I'm never going to see Karma again..._ Nagisa gasped for air as Takaoka pressed his windpipe into the mattress. Black spots danced in front of his eyes as Nagisa thought of one thing, and one thing only:

 _Karma…_

 _I'm sorry, Karma._ Nagisa thought to himself. _You told me that you loved me, but I never said those words back to you. I never even told you I forgave you. Now, I wish I'd said it all: That I forgive you. That I love you. And that I want nothing more than to be yours, always…_ Unfettered tears rolled down the sides of Nagisa's face as he thought about the man he loved, the man he'd lost. The whole room was spinning like a carousel as his consciousness fought to stay awake, to stay alive. Then, without warning, Takaoka's hand abruptly released his throat and Nagisa was left sputtering, gasping for air. The bed creaked and shifted as Takaoka sat down next to him, his eyes watching his quarry's face with the interest of a circling hawk.

The sudden, hovering specter of Takaoka's hand blocked out the glow from the light fixture, casting Nagisa's eyes in a pit of shadow. The hand paused briefly over Nagisa's face, before it seemed to reconsider and moved away. In a crazed, choked voice, Takaoka said, "It's no wonder you've doomed so many. You're like the serpent in the Garden of Eden. So deadly, yet far too tempting to resist. A boy with the visage of a girl, both beautiful and innocent and evil all at once." A pause. "Maybe you _were_ innocent once, but you're certainly not now. So, how many men have you had, Nagisa? Hmm? And how many of them had the privilege-nay, the pleasure-of walking away afterwards?"

A rush of cold ran through Nagisa at this speech. Unnerved by the implication, Nagisa frantically shook his head. _What? How many men have I had?_ he thought. _Absolutely none, up until last night…_

Takaoka seemed to grow angry at his response. "You're shaking your head again. Is it because you don't want to answer, or because your answer is none at all?" Like a cat's paw, Takaoka lashed out and snagged a handful of Nagisa's hair, pulling viciously. Nagisa bit back a cry. "Well, which is it?" Takaoka asked, his voice rising again.

There was another vicious, painful tug on his scalp. "None!" Nagisa gasped. "I don't know what you're-"

The sentence remained unfinished as Takaoka backhanded him hard enough to make him bite his tongue. Nagisa tasted the bitter tang of copper in his mouth, could feel wetness staining his lips. There was a palpable shift in the focus of Takaoka's threats as the man loomed over him. A different, darker kind of fear made Nagisa's limbs shake, made his heart thud with growing anxiety, as Takaoka reached out to casually wipe the blood from his lips. His fingers lingered there and Nagisa grew more frightened at the untethered madness-and growing lust-he saw in Takaoka's cold, reptilian eyes.

"Unbelievable," whispered Takaoka. "Still pure, even after all this time." Takaoka looked up at the ceiling; he seemed to be addressing the light fixture. "Kind, merciful fate has decided to be good to me after all, to deliver you to me in such a pristine state." His eyes flicked down to Nagisa. His hands were shaking as he spoke, his touch was as light as a moth's wing as it trailed down Nagisa's chest. "You know, I've always been fascinated by you," he admitted in a low, confessional tone. "Even back then. Even though I hated you. You've managed to infiltrate all my thoughts; you're like a disease, like a sickness. I can't think of anything else but you. It's been nothing but you, for five whole years. The passage of time has only made you more beautiful, more tempting..." The trembling hand flitted up and away.

"...and more evil. And now...now you're mine to do with as I wish."

The bed creaked in protest as Takaoka stood up. Nagisa's pulse was racing, a cold sweat engulfed his entire body. _Don'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlook,_ his mind pleaded with him. But he had to. He had to look. Nagisa turned his head, just in time to see Takaoka pull the butcher's knife from the block. His limbs began to tremble and he thought darkly, almost desperately, to himself:

 _Maybe he's right…_

 _Maybe I will beg him to kill me before the end..._


	14. Echoes in Eternity II

**Author's Note: Chapter warning for violence. Also, I would like to send out a special thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, or put this story on alert. Your support has been instrumental in motivating me to write this fic. and it helps soooooooooo much. So once again, thank you, and please r &r! :)**

* * *

Chapter 14:

Echoes in Eternity II

As he waited silently on the landing about halfway down the stairs, Karma thought about the time back in middle school when he'd gotten into trouble for raiding his parents' liquor cabinet.

It had all been a ridiculous misunderstanding. His parents had come home one evening to find several expensive bottles missing from their stash, and had come to the erroneous conclusion that their one and only son had taken up binge drinking. This was an absurd accusation, of course, and if the Akabanes had bothered to spend any amount of time at all with their son, then they would have known that such an idea was ludicrous. But Karma had purposefully led them to believe that he had taken the bottles and drank them, because the truth would have been so much worse. Because the truth was, he'd taken the bottles for an experiment. For the E class. For use in assassinations. He'd taken the bottles and had proceeded to fashion several homemade Molotov cocktails out of them, which he'd then taken out into the woods behind his house to use on various targets. By the time Karma was done with his little experiment, he'd cleared out a whole copse of trees, leaving nothing but smoldering ash and scorched earth in his wake. The cocktails he had mixed had made the most satisfying, gloriously violent fireballs when shattering on impact, and Karma had wondered, at the time, if he wasn't a bit of a pyromaniac. Because if his parents hadn't caught the missing bottles in such a timely manner, he would have emptied out the whole cabinet and roasted an entire field's worth of trees.

Karma's mouth quirked upward in a savage grin at the memory. Ah, those had been good times! He still remembered the suspicious look on Okuda's face when he had quizzed her about the use of appropriate accelerants beforehand. Her eyebrows had knitted together and she had admonished him, saying, "Akabane, you're not making homemade explosives now, are you? Because that can be really dangerous, you know. You could set your whole house-or yourself-on fire." Karma had merely grinned at her and thanked her for her input before simply walking away. He didn't need Okuda to lecture him about all the possible destruction his little experiment could cause, because in Karma's mind, the amount of destruction was the benchmark for his success.

And Karma had been very successful.

Karma stared down at the floor runner covering the small two meter landing; it was covered in a dark Indian mosaic pattern. Hanging a few feet above it on the wall was an oil painting of a boy-or quite possibly a girl-in a red satin play suit holding a pigeon on a string. One of those old nineteenth century paintings that looked like it belonged in a museum. Possibly authentic. Probably valuable. Karma regarded it with a languid expression before he casually raised the electric lighter he'd stolen from the fireplace and ignited the canvas. He watched the flames silently lick up the little boy's (or perhaps girl's) legs. Then he turned and quietly made his way back up the stairs.

Step one of his plan was in motion.

The staircase angled drastically off to the side at the landing, creating a rather nasty blind spot and bottleneck. Plus, the fire he had just set would push any interlopers even further to the side. Only one person would be able to go up at a time. Which is just want Karma wanted.

He planned on keeping the higher ground. He planned on making them come to him. He planned on picking them off. One at a time.

Karma craned his head over the side of the stairs. Despite Andrew's warning, he'd only seen a total of two men pass below him during his little stakeout; they'd wander into view occasionally, rifles in hand, trading remarks in Russian which he couldn't understand. They could have been talking about the weather. Or politics. Or fabric swatches, for all he knew. It didn't matter anyway. Because now, they were just targets. Obstacles he had to overcome. Objects standing between him and Nagisa.

A white knuckle tight tension coiled through Karma's body as he heard a familiar smattering of Russian drift up from below. He picked up the bottle of vodka-now garnished with a linen handkerchief soaked in lighter fluid-and held it over the side. The lighter was ready in his other hand. He just had to wait for the two men to pass beneath him. He just had to wait…

Wait...

 _Wait! What if you're not up for this!_ interrupted a panicky little voice inside his head. _What if you fail miserably? What if you have the gun in your hand and you choke like you did back in the hotel room? What if you're not capable of being the assassin that you used to be back in school, that Karasuma thinks you are?_

And then another voice, sounding very much like his confident fifteen year old self, said: _What if, instead, you become exactly who you were meant to be? Specifically, the cold, calculating assassin that Nagisa needs you to be?_

 _Nagisa, I am coming for you…_

The two men wandered into view.

Karma lit the cocktail and threw it with as much force as he could muster.

The makeshift bomb streaked like a comet to the first floor. A scream pierced the air as the bottle hit the man on the right and exploded into flames. Glass and fire flew in meteoric bits of shrapnel. The second man, temporarily blinded by the explosion, fell against the wall. He pointed his rifle unseeing at the stairs and fired upward. Karma ducked the random spray and crept to the head of the stairs. Leaning with his back against the banister, he pulled out the 9 mm and calmly waited.

Screams and shouts echoed up from below in a pained, demonic chorus. The painting on the landing was engulfed in flames. Karma felt his heart speed up as more voices were added to the cacophony downstairs: Obviously, the other two men Andrew had mentioned had finally decided to make an appearance. There was the pounding of footsteps on the stairs. There were shouts, in English, aimed in his direction:

"We know you're up there! Come out now or we'll shoot!"

The steps pounded upward, heading toward the landing. A calculated grin crossed Karma's face. It was nearly time…

Time to show them what the number one student in E class was capable of…

* * *

Takaoka ran his thumb lovingly over the knife's blade, seemingly distracted by its shiny surface. After a moment, he looked up, startled, and gazed around the room without seeing it. He looked almost lost, until his eyes landed on Nagisa. Then he smiled that awful smile again and approached the bed. Nagisa shrank back into the mattress, his eyes watching the strobe like flash of the blade in Takaoka's hand. Takaoka sat on the edge of the bed. Nagisa tried not to react as Takaoka reached into his pocket and took out a small silver lighter.

"You know, it was my idea to target that classmate of yours, from the Park City Hotel onwards," Takaoka said. He flipped back the lid on the lighter. Nagisa turned his head away as he continued to speak.

"Because you always had a soft spot for them, your classmates. Always. That's why I poisoned half of them on the island. Because I knew you would do anything to rescue them, even walk straight into my trap. And oh, the look on your face when I dropped that vial of antidote was priceless! Such beautiful misery! It was like a work of art." Nagisa heard the distinct _click_ of the lighter being lit and droplets of sweat began to creep across his temple. The coverlet beneath his left knee was stained damp with blood. Moving his right foot even the slightest caused discordant notes of pain to shoot up his leg. Nagisa steeled his mind for what was coming next as Takaoka continued his madman's rant:

"So I told Dominika, target the redhead and Nagisa will be forced to stay and defend him. Because you would never leave a classmate of yours in jeopardy. Never. It's against your very nature. Such a pity, really, because it is this conflicting nature of yours that got you stuck in your current predicament." Light danced in the corner of Nagisa's eye, and Nagisa turned his head just in time to see Takaoka heating up the knife with the lighter's flame. He smiled at him over the blade.

Then Takaoka leaned over, pointing red hot metal straight at Nagisa's face.

* * *

"The stairwell is on fire! This idiot means to burn the whole house down!"

 _Technically speaking, just the one painting is on fire,_ thought Karma. _But if burning the whole house down is what it takes…_

Karma listened cautiously for their footsteps. They were on the landing now. _C'mon, just a couple of steps more…_

"Oi, Dominika is going to be upset about that painting," said a heavily accented voice. There was a protesting creak as someone mounted the second flight of stairs. _Alright, here we go,_ thought Karma as he knelt by the wooden bannister and open fired down the stairs.

There was a commotion on the landing as the second man was struck by the lifeless, falling body of the first. "Fuck! He's got a gun!" Karma was forced to retreat as a barrage of bullets pelted the top of the staircase. Bits of wood flew in a cloud of sawdust. Moving stealthily along the upper railing, Karma popped over the side and returned fire. He missed his target and another spray of bullets hit the wall behind him, turning the hallway into one giant dot-to-dot puzzle. Karma stayed in a crouch just out of sight. He checked his ammo clip. Eight more bullets. He was starting to wish he hadn't skipped out on target practice at school quite so often.

"Alright, you prick, come down from there or I'm coming up after you!" There was another volley of bullets, and Karma used this noisy bit of cover to move back into position at the head of the stairs. Karma waited just inside the hall for the man to come up. There was the sound of cautious, creaking footsteps drifting up the stairs. Karma didn't so much as flinch as about half a dozen bullets embedded themselves into the wooden bend near where he was standing. Because nothing could faze him now. Not while he was in pure predator mode. He had almost forgotten what that felt like.

It felt good.

 _Creak._

It felt right.

 _Creak._

It felt _amazing_.

 _Creak._ As the Russian stepped to the head of the stairs, Karma silently rounded the corner and grabbed his rifle and slammed him under the chin with it. The man staggered backwards and without hesitating, Karma kicked him straight over the railing, listening to his foreign curses as he fell all the way to the second floor. He had the dire misfortune of landing on top of the man he'd hit with the Molotov cocktail earlier and he caught on fire, flailing around on the floor in a heap of broken limbs and flame. Karma watched idly as more of him became engulfed, his shrieks echoing up the stairs. Karma ceased to listen and he pulled the strap of the man's rifle over his good shoulder and began descending the staircase. He had just alighted the bottom step when the sound of a gun being cocked clicked just behind his head.

"You're a dead man," said a voice with a Russian accent. _Damn,_ thought Karma. _I almost got through them all. I was this close to making it. So, so close…_

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a gun going off.

* * *

Nagisa stared at the heated blade as it hovered before his face.

Then the blade dipped away toward his chest. Nagisa shrank back as the blade touched the skin at the base of his throat, but instead of cutting into flesh, Takaoka slid the blade beneath his shirt and began cutting along the fabric, slicing down the middle. He wasn't particularly careful about it, and Nagisa flinched every time the knife accidentally came into contact with his chest, leaving hot, painful nicks along the way. Finally, Takaoka reached the hem of his shirt, cutting through the last bit of cotton like he would the skin on a Thanksgiving turkey, opening it back to reveal the succulent flesh underneath.

"You should have abandoned that friend of yours," said Takaoka in a breathy voice as he worked. "You allowed him to become a weakness for you, and that was a strategic error. You let your emotions get in the way of your judgement. Our world requires strength, and that boy was weak-"

"-you're wrong."

Takaoka froze, caught off guard by Nagisa's response. Nagisa looked straight at him and said calmly, "Karma Akabane is many things, but he isn't weak. He was _never_ weak."

Takaoka's eyes glittered maliciously. "It doesn't matter what that boy is. Or _was_ , rather. Because by now he's dead." Takaoka lifted the knife, now cool, and caressed Nagisa's jaw with it. Then he added in a threatening whisper:

"And once I'm done playing with you, you're going to join him…"

* * *

Karma held his breath at the sound of a gun going off behind him. There was a muffled thud and he turned around, surprised to see the last of the four Russian guards lying prone on the varnished oak floor, a dark bullet hole piercing his right temple. Standing a few meters behind him, blending into the shadows just underneath the staircase, was a young girl with long strawberry blonde hair in a black catsuit holding a gun. Karma couldn't keep the look of confusion off his face when the girl addressed him in a thick Scottish brogue:

"My name is Naomi McGarrity. I'm here for my S.O. Nagisa Shiota." Her lips stretched upward in a slight smile as she paused and said, "You must be Karma Akabane."

Karma's eyebrow shot up towards his hairline. "You're here for Nagisa?"

The girl holstered her gun and came towards him, stepping over the body of the man she had just felled without even looking at him. "We intercepted a call from an MI-6 informant stating that Nagisa Shiota was being held captive here by Dominika Ivanov. That was almost an hour ago. I came here straight away-"

"-I thought Karasuma and Irina were coming?" said Karma.

"Oh, they are," replied Naomi. "But they were all the way out on the West End in London. You know, for your dinner date? And I was much closer." A wry grin flitted across her face at the mention of the dinner date. Naomi looked around at all the bodies and broken glass and various objects that had caught fire in the ensuing melee. "You know, this was quite a show you put on here, Mr. Akabane. I was roundly entertained. I'm impressed by the level of destruction that you managed to cause, being that you're just one guy. And not even a trained professional at that-"

"You were watching all of this?"

"You can't aim for shit, though," Naomi added, softening the criticism with a slight smile. She nodded toward the rifle and pistol Karma still had in his possession. "How did you manage to come by all the fun toys?"

Karma lifted the 9 mm. "Well, this one was given to me by the MI-6 agent working here. I, er, kinda left him knocked out cold upstairs with Ivanov-"

"-Ivanov?" Naomi's eyes visibly widened at the mention of Dominika's name. "You mean, Dominika's alive? Upstairs?" Naomi's gaze automatically flicked toward the staircase.

Karma felt a twinge of cold trickle across his spine as he watched Naomi take out her gun again. Without speaking, the girl marched off towards the stairs. As her foot hit the first step, Karma called to her:

"What are you doing?"

Naomi didn't bother to turn around. "I have unfinished business with that woman," was all she said. She continued up the stairs without stopping. From somewhere up above him, Karma heard her say:

"Nagisa will understand…"


	15. Red Baptism

**Author's Note: Chapter warning for violence, lots of blood, as well as some heavily inferred non-con advances. Please read at your own discretion.**

* * *

Chapter 15:

Red Baptism

Under the gold wavering light, the honeycomb was once again blurring, doubling. It began to look a lot less like a honeycomb, and more like a spiderweb…

The dark stain beneath Nagisa's knee had spread, almost doubling in size, ringing his leg like a black halo. It was worrisome, as Nagisa thought that maybe Takaoka had damaged his femoral artery with the corkscrew. The drugs were long gone from his system, but things were starting to get hazy again. It was harder to focus. Harder to keep track of Takaoka's movements. Harder to think clearly. So when Nagisa heard far off shouts coming from somewhere outside the deep blue walls, he wasn't sure if it was real or a hallucination. Without thinking, he murmured, "Did you hear that?"

The mattress sank further beneath him and gave out a slight squeal like a poked, protesting pig. "I heard nothing," asserted Takaoka as he sat, even though he turned to stare at the heavy wooden door. His brows knitted together in consternation.

"Someone is screaming," insisted Nagisa.

"No," said Takaoka. "You're just remembering."

After that all sound faded away except for the errant squeak of the shifting bed springs. Takaoka was leaning across him again. Nagisa cringed as his fingers brushed along his side, skirting over bare flesh. He wasn't looking at his face, but his scar. Specifically, the place where Dominika had shot him. "You've taken a bullet here," observed Takaoka. His fingers lingered over the shiny, raised flesh, prodding, pressing.

Inside, Nagisa was screaming.

"And here I thought I was the only one to have marked you," said Takaoka with what sounded like disappointment. His fingers stroked the scar idly, almost lovingly. "It's okay, though. Because you'll have a lot more of these by the time I'm through with you."

"Why bother if you're just going to kill me anyway?"

Takaoka's head snapped up at this. Nagisa could see a distinctively dark aura outlining his entire upper body, just like the kind his mother would get right before she'd get angry with him. Right before she would hit him. Or pound his head into a table. Or grab his hair and push him into a wall…

 _Stop..._

 _Focus..._

 _That was then! This is now! Stay in the moment!_

 _You're not a helpless child anymore!_ screamed a determined voice in the back of his head. _And if you have any kind of will left in you at all, you would work on getting that foot free where he took your shoe off, because now there is some slack in the rope. You can feel it. So start with that leg. One leg, and it could make all the difference. Maybe you can get out of this..._

 _But it hurts to move it!_ yelled a contradictory, almost childlike voice. _So. Damn. Much._

 _Do it!_ screeched the other voice.

Takaoka was glaring down at him. _Yes, that's it,_ said the encouraging little voice inside his head. _Keep his attention up here, on your face, and away from that leg you're trying to pull free._ "Why bother, you ask?" Takaoka repeated his question. "Because I told you, your death will not be quick. You see, I'm going to make this last. I'm going to draw this out." The hands were back around Nagisa's throat again, squeezing, tightening. "I told you I would wring tears of humiliation from you, that you'd beg me for death before the end." The hands squeezed even harder and the spiderweb began to dance in a nonexistent breeze. "And I meant it. I meant every word I said." The hands left and Takaoka started to get up to go back to his table full of toys when Nagisa spoke suddenly:

"I took that bullet to save a little girl."

Takaoka froze. A smirk covered his scarred face. "Ah, that is just like you. You and your conflicting nature-"

"-you keep saying that," interrupted Nagisa. _Keep talking. Keep his focus up here, away from what you're doing._ "But I don't understand what you mean-"

"-understand what? That you're a creature of gross contradictions? Both a boy and a girl? Both a devil and an angel? Both a killer and a protector? Both a-" Takaoka broke off, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "I thought you were supposed to be a good student, but you don't see the danger your own conflicting nature causes? You have both the urge to kill _and_ protect. And those impulses are at war within you-"

"-no. That's not true, because I've found a way to satisfy both urges-"

"-you think you have. You are mistaken. Deluded-"

"-no. I've reconciled them. Transcended it. _They_ have given me the will to continue-"

"-they? Who are they?"

Nagisa forced himself to lock eyes with Takaoka, forced himself to look into his malicious, madness filled gaze and speak the truth. "The girl I took the bullet for. She's fourteen now. She goes to school, and I tutor her in my spare time. She loves books and cats and marshmallow hot chocolate. She is not just a faceless victim to me. _They_ are not just faceless victims. They are all real and alive and happy. Because of me. Because I _am_ a ruthless killer, and I was strong enough and willing enough to put a bullet into some evil scumbag's head so they could live, so they could be free. Because sometimes the scales of justice can't be balanced with anything but blood, and violence must be answered with violence…" Nagisa abruptly stopped speaking as Takaoka threw his head back and laughed. Nagisa's eyes widened slightly as he felt the bungee cord slip over his heel, snagging on the hooked end of the skewer. Pain shot through his body like a bolt of lightning at the contact, but Nagisa forced his face to remain neutral. He swallowed and said to Takaoka in a slightly shaky voice, "Why are you laughing?"

Takaoka's shoulders shook with silent, residual laughter. "So naive, Nagisa. So idealistic. And so very like the young boy I met five years ago." Takaoka picked up the knife again and stroked Nagisa's bangs with it. Emboldened by his own impassioned speech, Nagisa didn't flinch under the blade. "But tell me," Takaoka whispered as he bent over him, their faces mere inches apart. "Who will step up and save you, now that you're the victim? Who will balance your scales? Who will draw blood on your behalf?" Hot breath skittered across Nagisa's face as Takaoka leaned in closer, the cold metal blade stroking his temple like the fingertips of a lover. "I'll tell you who: No one. That's who." Dried, twisted lips brushed against Nagisa's ear as Takaoka's breathing sped up, became more erratic. The mattress creaked in protest as Takaoka crawled onto the bed, covering him. His weight was stifling, suffocating. Nagisa trembled as Takaoka lips trailed from his ear to his neck; one hand gripped Nagisa's side, covering his old wound, while the other hand still held the knife. _Do not whimper. Do not move. Do not give him anything._

Meanwhile, Nagisa had managed to wiggle the cord past the looped end of the skewer.

The dark aura around Takaoka was pulsing with a growing, menacing blackness, its edges spreading like a water stain. Nagisa stared unblinking over Takaoka's shoulder as he watched him silently raise the knife, even as his face remained buried in the crook of Nagisa's neck. The silvery metal glinted like starlight above his head, right before it came flashing down-

-Nagisa jerked his knee up, suddenly knocking the blade from Takaoka's grasp. It clattered loudly as it hit the hardwood floor by the bed. He wound his leg around Takaoka's neck, locking him in a python's grip, as Takaoka began to flail and struggle on top of him. A gratifying look of surprise flickered over the other man's face as Nagisa glared up at him triumphantly, his steely blue eyes clearly saying: _I am no one's victim. And you are mistaken if you think so._ That look of triumph quickly faded as Takaoka reached for Nagisa's other leg, grabbing the knee he'd mangled with the corkscrew and squeezing hard. Nagisa gave a pained, enraged cry, tightening his own grip, his body stretched beyond breaking as the two of them struggled, locked together in heated, desperate combat. "You want to get close to me, Takaoka?" hissed Nagisa into his face, his bloodlust rising. "Hmm? Is that what you want? Well, let me show you what happens to any man who tries to touch me without my permission…"

With that, Nagisa clamped his teeth down on Takaoka's ear, tearing flesh, as his captor screamed in shock-

* * *

-A distant scream echoed down the hall, coming from the far end of the house...

Without thinking, Karma took off in that direction, running as if the hounds of hell were on his heels, racing in a mad dash for the last room on the left. _Nagisa! Stay with me! I'm almost there!_ He hit the closed door with his good shoulder first, barreling straight into the heavy oak. He practically fell into the room. The scene he found inside made his heart leap up into his throat, causing his pulse to pound out a drowning staccato rhythm in his ears.

Takaoka and Nagisa were twisted together on the four poster bed. A lovers' tableau, if not for all the blood that was everywhere: On the covers, on Nagisa, on Takaoka. It was impossible to tell what belonged to whom. Everything was stained red, red, red. Takaoka had his hands around Nagisa's throat and was pressing him back into the mattress, bellowing into his face. Nagisa's arms were tied to the headboard, limiting his movements. Karma raised the 9 mm but faltered as he couldn't get a clear shot. With the two of them entwined as they were, he was afraid he would miss and hit the person he was trying to save.

Then Karma saw the knife lying by the bed.

Karma lunged for the large butcher's knife, snagging it from the floor. Takaoka was busy screaming at Nagisa and didn't notice his approach. Nagisa's eyes widened as his gaze met Karma's over Takaoka's shoulder. Karma crept up behind Takaoka as Nagisa loosened his grip on the man, his limbs falling limp in a gesture that Takaoka would no doubt view as surrender. Then Nagisa spoke, rasping at Takaoka, "You asked me before how many men I've had, and I told you none. Well, that was a lie. There's been just one. And he's standing right behind you." Takaoka froze, his hands falling away from Nagisa as he let the meaning of those words sink in.

Takaoka barely had a chance to turn around before Karma surged forward, grabbing him by his hair and neatly slitting his throat...

* * *

Nagisa was trapped beneath the body of a dead man.

The blood gushing from Takaoka's throat had painted his whole upper body red. So Nagisa lay like a bloodied corpse beneath his tormentor until Karma thoughtfully pushed him off, his bulk rolling over the mattress and hitting the floor with a sickening thud. The look on Karma's face was one of pure horror as he looked down at Nagisa. Horror that quickly shifted into fear and abject remorse as he stammered, in an uncharacteristically frightened voice, "Oh, God, Nagisa, what has he done to you?"

A tired smile passed over Nagisa's face. "Don't look so horrified, Akabane. Most of the blood isn't mine. I bit Takaoka's ear off right before you came in and it bled quite a bit." Karma suddenly noticed the detached ear sitting on the covers and he instinctively drew back, repulsed. If Nagisa hadn't been in so much pain, he probably would have found his reaction funny. Skirting around both the ear and the body on the floor, Karma took the butcher's knife and began to hack at the ropes that were tied around Nagisa's arms. Once they were gone, Nagisa sat up, glad to be free of his prone, stiff position.

"Karma, can you do me another favor?"

"Anything you want, name it."

"Can you please pull that metal skewer out of my right foot?"

"What?"

"There's a metal skewer in my right foot."

Karma went to the foot of the bed. His head dipped as he examined Nagisa's foot. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed angrily. Nagisa just shook his head tiredly at Karma's growing rage. The room was starting to tilt at an increasingly weird angle, but Nagisa refused to alarm Karma any further. "Please. Just pull it out," he pleaded in a tired voice.

Karma swore under his breath as he grabbed the looped end of the skewer. He was glaring daggers at the corpse by the bed. "This is going to be unpleasant," Karma said with marked understatement. Cradling Nagisa's foot in one hand, he began counting down. "Three, two, one-"

Nagisa's head snapped back in agony as the skewer was yanked out. The honeycomb was spinning wildly above his head, whirling round and round like a carousel. Nagisa wanted to get up, but he knew he couldn't walk in his current state. Even staying upright was proving to be a trial. The light overhead began to flicker and dim. "Karma, I'm bleeding from my left knee. I think he might have hit something in there," Nagisa rasped in a weak voice. The lights grew darker as Nagisa continued to speak, whispering:

"I think...I think I've lost too much-"

Nagisa felt a pair of arms wrapping around his legs, lifting him from the bed. The light continued to flicker in and out, pulsing like a firefly. As Nagisa felt himself fading into the darkness, he heard a voice saying to him, over and over, "Stay with me, Nagisa. Don't go. Stay. Please, Nagisa…"

" _Stay with me…"_


	16. The Circle

**Author's Note: Only one chapter to go after this one...**

* * *

Chapter 16:

The Circle

Off in the distance, church bells tolled a deep, mournful song.

It was early morning. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, its tentative rays reaching out to gently brush away the dew from the open flowers. Inside a narrow row house out in the London suburbs, a different kind of music was playing. Over the dark somber bells, high, lively notes bounced off of brightly painted walls:

 _Blue, blue, electric blue_

 _That's the color of my room_

 _Where I will live_

 _Mmm, mmm, blue, blue…_

 _Pale blinds, drawn all day_

 _Nothing to do, nothing to say_

 _Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm,_

 _Blue, blue…_

Karma made his way through a tiny sliver of a kitchen, the music fading away behind him. On the stove, a kettle was boiling. A fat orange cat gazed up at him from its kingly sprawl on the tiled floor. At a small breakfast table sat a young girl with blonde hair and large black framed glasses. Her nose was in a book. Specifically, _Orlando_ by Virginia Woolf. She didn't bother to look up as Karma passed. He walked through the tiny kitchen toward a pair of sliding glass doors which led out to a small garden. From inside, he could see a black suited figure standing by a row of potted plants, silhouetted against the rising sun, his back turned to him.

The figure still didn't turn as Karma pulled back the door with an audible _snap!_ and walked outside. He approached the figure almost warily, stopping to stand next to him. The silence stretched on, punctuated only by the monotonous call of the church bells. As dark, narrow eyes flicked briefly in Karma's direction, Karma bowed in response, the old habit impossible to break as he said stiffly:

"Good morning, sensei."

"You don't have to call me that anymore, Akabane," Karasuma pointed out. Karma merely shrugged. He noticed the cup of tea resting in Karasuma's hands. Seeing this, Karasuma said, "Did you want some? Ellie will be more than happy to make it for you."

"No, I'm fine," said Karma.

"Are you really?" asked Karasuma, the question loaded with meaning.

Karma squirmed a bit at the intimation and said, with a typical smirk, "Well, actually, after all that went down last night, I kind of regret skipping out on P.E. so often. Particularly target practice."

"Hmm, is that so?" said Karasuma in his deep baritone. "And yet I hear your homemade bomb making skills are excellent."

A small bark of laughter escaped Karma's throat. "Yey, well, I had what you might call a 'well rounded' education." Karma shifted from foot to foot as more silenced followed. After all, Karasuma was never much of a conversationalist. Finally, Karma said, "I was thinking, sir, if you didn't mind, perhaps we could go out to the gun range together and practice some time. I don't like the fact that I've gotten rusty on so many things."

Silence. Karma watched, uncharacteristically nervous, as Karasuma took a long sip of his tea. After a moment, he said, "Just what, exactly, are you asking me Akabane?"

Karma stared at Karasuma's imposing figure. _Don't chicken out now. Speak to him. Tell him what you really want._ Trying to sound casual, Karma said, almost nonchalantly:

"Would you be interested in taking on another recruit?"

More silence. Karma refused to look Karasuma in the face. Instead, he stared at his tea cup. His fingers caressed the handle thoughtfully. "Akabane, I realize how talented and smart you are, but-"

"-but what?" Karma interjected.

Karasuma looked at him. Karma knew that look. It meant a lecture was coming. "I know you have an unwavering penchant for violence, and that can be a good thing in certain...er, situations. But even still, I have to question your motivations-"

"-what's wrong with my motivations?" Karma asked. _No,_ he thought. _Do not ask me to drop this. Do not ask me to go back to university and pick up my old life. That is a death sentence. I don't want to be a pencil pusher behind some desk somewhere. It would break the very heart of me. Especially, now…_

 _...now that I've tasted blood._

Karasuma's stern eye raked over him. "Why are you really asking me this? Is it because of Nagisa? Because you want to protect him? To follow him?"

Karma couldn't keep the slightly guilty look off his face. _So, he understands at least part of my motivation._ "And what's wrong with that?" Karma genuinely asked. "Is it so bad? That I want to follow him?"

"So you would be number two to Nagisa? Again?" Karasuma asked pointedly, the comment obviously referring more to their positions in the past than any they might possibly hold in the future. "Just like back then, you would let Nagisa win-"

Karma smiled a soft smile. "It's not a competition, sensei. It's not about winning. At least, not the kind you're thinking of. And if there is a clear winner in this, it's me. Because I already have the thing I want most. Whether you say yes or no."

Karasuma smiled the first genuine smile Karma had seen since both he and Karasuma had begun talking. A deep sigh escaped his throat. "Akabane, I realize love may make it seem like we're winning at everything, but when it comes to the path that we have chosen, love can sometimes make things harder. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes."

"And you were always rather lazy-"

"-I won't be lazy, sir. You'll see. I'm highly motivated. More than I've ever been."

Karasuma gazed into his tea cup. "Let me consider it. I will want to speak to Irina as well."

"Of course, sir." Karma ducked his head in order to hide the small, triumphant smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. Behind him, the sliding glass made a slight, agitated _skree_ as it was pulled open. Both Karma and Karasuma turned to see Ellie standing in the doorway. She was looking directly at Karma as she announced shyly:

"He's awake now. And he's asking for you..."

* * *

Voices rose and fell in the dark. Some real, some imagined, some remembered. High, feminine voices, and heavily accented. Footsteps clattered over wooden floors. Sentences were garbled, punctuated by sudden exclamations and shouts. Nagisa thought he was dreaming. Or perhaps he was just remembering. Words, conversations: all of it swirled down the drain of his subconscious, lost almost as quickly as they were found...

 _Oh my god! Nagisa! Is he dead?_

 _Jesus, boss, that's a lot of blood!_

 _What are you doing here? Who let you out?_

 _I'm not a puppy._

 _This isn't all him, but his left leg won't stop bleeding._

 _Put him on that couch and elevate that leg. Irina, give me your wrap._

 _But...but it's Chanel!_

 _Irina, now!_

 _Is he...is he gonna die?_

A pinhole of light appeared in a slitted curtain. The voices overlapped, somewhere close to the light. He could almost see them. Could almost see…

 _But why do I need to wear a dress like that?_

 _It's part of your cover. You're to pretend you're part of a wedding party-_

 _-no one would wear a dress like that to a wedding. It's rude to outshine the bride, you know._

 _It's to draw attention to yourself._

 _But I'm gonna be a pale Scottish girl in Cambodia. I'm already gonna draw attention._

 _Why do you have to be so argumentative?_

 _Also, those shoes are a menace. I'm not wearing those. What tactical purpose does it serve?_

 _You never give Nagisa this much trouble…_

The pinhole widened. In the distance, bells were pealing. Nagisa wanted so much to speak. To just say to Naomi: _Just think of the outfit as another weapon in your cache. It's like camouflage. You want them to think you're helpless. Defenseless. That you're little Red Riding Hood, instead of the Big Bad Wolf…_

The bells ceased tolling. Some other music played softly, dimly in the background. Then:

 _Did he just speak?_

 _I think he's awake._

 _Through all those pain meds?_

 _Quick, go get Karma!_

"Karma...I want to see him," rasped Nagisa. He blinked, and the pinhole flickered and widened, like the frames in an old timey picture show. Not quite black and white, but not brightly shot through with color, either. A single lamp created a sepia toned halo in the corner. "Is that...is that David Bowie I hear?" Nagisa asked hesitantly, unsure if the music was real or in his head.

"Naomi left the record player on," answered Irina testily. "I can go turn it off it's bothering you."

"No...let it play."

Naomi returned and Irina started up again. "Now, you listen to me!" she said irritably. "We're going to do this Cambodia thing my way, or we're not doing it all-"

"-you're being completely mental. I can wear cut offs and sandals and everything will still be the same. I'm not Nagisa. I don't need this stuff-"

"-I can't believe you're referring to this as 'stuff.' What kind of girl are you?"

"Low maintenance."

"Tch! Unbelievable. Can't you just follow orders for once?"

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Boss? Will you make her stop?" Both women turned to stare at Nagisa, who was now sitting up against the pillows, their arms crossed as if waiting on a ruling from a referee. Nagisa was more than a little relieved when Karma appeared in the doorway. As all heads turned in his direction, Nagisa mouthed the words ' _help me_ '' to the red haired boy. Smirking in wordless understanding, Karma said, "Excuse me, ladies, but I'd like some time alone with Nagisa, if you please." Grinning slyly in the direction of the bed, Irina chirped a cheerily, "Of course," before grabbing Naomi by the arm and pulling her from the room. Once they were both gone, Karma closed the door shut behind him. "Better?" he turned and asked.

"Much," said Nagisa with a relieved sigh. "Their squabbling was about to drive me insane. You'd think they'd have more respect for the almost dead." When Karma didn't move from the door, Nagisa held his hand out, beckoning. "Don't stand so far away. Come closer."

Karma crossed the room and took Nagisa's hand. Seeing that one of his arms was in a sling, Nagisa said, his eyes narrowing in concern, "Are you alright?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," answered Karma in a low voice. He sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed. "After all, this is just a scratch compared to what you've had to endure," he pointed out uneasily.

Nagisa stared down at his heavily bandaged legs, looking at them as if they were a pair of alien objects, detached from himself. "I can't even feel them, they've got me so doped up," Nagisa whispered softly. Turning his pale azure eyes up at Karma, he said, "You're still too far away."

Karma didn't answer him. Instead, he kicked both of his shoes onto the floor and crawled into the bed, wrapping his one good arm around Nagisa's shoulders. Nagisa wiggled haphazardly into his embrace, placing his head on Karma's chest. Nagisa smiled groggily to himself, whispering, "There...that's much better."

They remained that way in awkward silence for several seconds. Finally, they both began to speak, their hastily uttered words tripping over one another.

"Karma, there's something important I want to say-"

"I'm sorry, Nagisa-"

Silence. Nagisa squirmed in slight discomfort and asked, "Why are you apologizing?"

The arm tightened around him. "I wanted to tell you how sorry I was for all those things I said to you out on the Heath. I didn't mean them. I kept thinking to myself, if either of us dies without Nagisa hearing how much I regret saying all of those terrible things, if he doesn't actually forgive me for saying them, then I will never be able to live with myself-"

"-but I didn't die," Nagisa interjected. "Because of you. Because you saved me. Isn't that apology enough?"

"No, it's not," Karma insisted. "Because _I'm_ the reason you almost died. I allowed myself to become a target, to become your weak point. And I can't forgive myself for that. You were right to want to send me away. That was your self preservation instinct kicking in. I don't want to be the thing, the person, that drags you down. I can't allow that. I _won't_ allow that-"

"-so what are you saying?" Nagisa asked, a note of fear coloring his words.

Now Karma was the one squirming in discomfort. "I'm saying, if I can't be a true partner to you, if I can't rise to your level, then I just need to go-"

"-no. Stop it. Just stop!" Nagisa stammered angrily, pounding a weak fist against Karma's chest. _Go on._ _Do it. Tell him. Say how you really feel._ "I can't believe you're suggesting that. Especially now, when...when I was...when I was going to say…to finally say..." _Be calm. Breathe. Say the words._

"-uhm, Nagisa? You're starting to sound like a broken record? Maybe you have a concu-"

"-I love you!" Nagisa blurted suddenly. He cringed at the foreign words tumbling from his own tongue. The silence that followed didn't help. Finally, Karma said, almost darkly, "I hope to god you're not just saying that out of some sense of obligation, Nagisa-"

"-no! It's not obligation! It's realization!" insisted Nagisa. "I should have said it to you back on Hampstead Heath. Hell, I should have said it in King's Cross. It's just...I couldn't make myself do it-"

"-why do you have to 'make yourself'?"

"Because…" And that's when the voices started in. The ones that were filled with doubt and self criticism and guilt. Only instead of his mother's voice, this time Nagisa heard Karma's: _This is why you won't let anyone get close to you. Because you're afraid they'll see how fucked up you really are. And then they'll leave you, just like your dad left your mom…_

 _Just like your dad left your mom…_

 _Your dad and mom…_

 _Your dad…_

Nagisa squeezed his eyes shut, willing the hateful, echoing voices away. "Because you were right," Nagisa admitted. "I _am_ messed up in the head. Because of the way I was raised. And I'm afraid...I'm afraid you'll leave me-"

"-Nagisa, I would never-"

"-I mean, just look at me, for Christ's sake!" cried Nagisa. "I can't even walk right now! I have no right to ask you to stay! No right to ask you for anything-"

"-Nagisa, you have _every_ right-"

"-Because I'm a horrible person and I don't deserve it!" Nagisa wailed finally, a torrent of fear and adolescent anguish and pent up uncertainty breaking through all the erected levees that were holding back his deepest, darkest emotions. Tears streamed unchecked down his cheeks as Nagisa pressed his face into Karma's chest. A gentle hand tugged on Nagisa's hair. Embarrassed, Nagisa refused to look up. Finally, Karma said, "Nagisa, look at me."

Nagisa shook his head emphatically, refusing to give. "Nagisa, please. Look at me," Karma repeated. A hand reached under his chin, forcing his face up. Nagisa stared blearily into Karma's eyes, surprised to find a face that was as tear streaked as his own. The revelation caused Nagisa's mouth to fall open. Then Karma said, in a tremulous voice:

"I will never, ever leave you, Nagisa Shiota. Never. And last night when I thought I'd lost you for good, I realized something. That I love you more than anything else in this world. That I would kill for you. I would die for you. And I don't want to live without you. Ever. You were the best friend and partner a crazy middle school delinquent like me could ever have. You're _still_ the best friend and partner a lazy twenty year old delinquent like me could ever have. So let's stay that way, shall we? Let's just stay together and don't give me some bullshit about how you're horrible and you don't deserve it. Because you know what?" And here Karma swept Nagisa's hair back and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"You're wonderful and you deserve everything in the world, Nagisa. Everything. And I want to be the one to give it to you."

A second, more lingering kiss made Nagisa's heart glow brighter and warmer than all the heat drenched rays of the early morning sun.

"I want to give you everything…"


End file.
